After so many words have passed my lips
After being so warm
Like fire on the edge of my fingertips

I amazed by what I find
Both within me and within this
My seemingly same old somber mind

Because all of a sudden
The same old feelings
And the same old wooden stirring stick
Have broken into a dozen pieces
And suddenly I am settling in
After weeks of feeling uncommonly mixed

This is a different side of me and yet the same
With a broken stick cast at my feet

How I want to share
Because it reminds me
Exactly how I would like to be
But to be like this forever and always
To be locked in this form exclusively
Would be nothing short of torturous for me

So I’ll search for new words with this month
And try and find a way to stretch
The same old somber sayings which
Always seem to bunch up in my mind

So I’ll search along the wall of time
From here until the very end
Until I find the truth within
Where his words begin
And my words end

For only his words are perfect and kind
And enough to restore my peace of mind

Some dead things just won't lay down
We keep walking
Long after we've died
Wreaking havoc upon the living
Drowning
what little of ourselves that remains alive in
Vintage
Tears and shame
Throwing up on sidewalks
Homewrecking
Bringing the occasional young stranger home
To get that little drip of pleasure
From his heartbreak at dawn
But apparently
This kind of "self help"
Isn't working
Apparently
Tomatoe juice with celery sticks
Massages
And people behind desks in
Ugly polyester suits with framed papers on their walls and a prescription or two
Is now
Rehab for the dead