Really man,
Roxanne?

That song

is

so

****-
ing

old.

Obsessed
with these
western scales,
embrace your anxiety.

It will probably
make you a better person,
that is,
if you ever
considered yourself human.

"Deeper" means "meta-",
make an analogy.

I sleep with the pigeons,
I sleep under bridges,
a deteriorating photograph
is all I have.
She left with that winner,
the one that looks like an athlete
but he's actually an artist
you know, the one that gets noticed.
I can't blame her, I've lost it all.
These are the types of injuries that occur
when the ethics are below your pay grade.
So now I sleep under bridges,
the grass is my bed,
and I
bathe with the pigeons.
I keep a hat on my head
while I read the paper with my shoulders
hunched over, although I don't
get cold anymore.

Agitated at how this guy has me figured
out, I just want to throw him on the ground.
I look up at the board in front of me
now and see
that Bukowski has me cornered again
and I want to scream expletives
as loudly as I can, but I catch myself
just before I begin to vent because
the three and four year old children
all around are the only people that
don't yet hold me in complete
contempt and I'd like to keep it
that way.

They came
out of the sun.
They came as one,
and then burst
into a thousand
brightly
burning birds,
colliding
kaleidoscopes-
smashed up stars,
mashed up Mars-
crimson
in my eyes,
feathered
arrows
in flight,
flocking
to the flood
beneath us,
the stars fell
like trickles of blood
from the brow of the sky,


I was high.

So high.

It's a long walk,
the way that women are,
and I've already lost miles
to the races.
Try appealing to a youthful
star, have 'em throw money
to the wayside.

I was howlin'
like some horrid wind.
I was prowlin',
bayside,

sick of the **** I was sittin' in.

I was a wizard,

baby,

I was a blizzard
blowin'
through your front door.


I try, I try,
I try, I try,
now put me on trial,

baby,

you can't fake style!

It's not a mask,
and it's not just a past
but something more.
And I'll be able to tell
just what that is
as soon as I
figure all
The above my brow
considerations.
The ones that we
crawl towards,

the delicacies that
you spit at me,

you spit them from your
mouth; young,
European tongue,
look at what you've done!

Why?
Why so profound?
Why,
just act petty,
demographics
don't stop me.
Why?
Why so profound?
Why,
just be pretty instead,
demographics don't stop me.

In a golden glow,
while you slept,
I strung together
a few haiku
for you
and sang them
to a sad tune,
the only one I knew.

Your words are like clay
before the kiln,
I try to mold them
into thousands of different shapes,
and it's never right.
But I don't
like to complain
and I'd have to say,
I think I handle pain
pretty well,
wouldn't you agree?

Your explanations
need explanations now.
You speak to me
in worlds,
I only know the smallest words.

Your mouth races my heart,
I always give you a head start.

I will chase you all the way home.

The summer night
is the summer day,
in a daze, we fall asleep
in the a.m.
We wake up,
we find our friends,
we do it again.

Lamplight
can't save us now,
we're out hounding.