Currently, I receive energies played in waves above
plains sunken under progressive ruination
streets of rock run white with rain
washing and washing
ways for joy to fall,
waste washing down from heaven in rain
washing and washing.
Under their breath someone sees death and says
what of what I'm left, with and without?
While the next life in line with their hands in their pockets
can't help but just stand there and nod, in a
wave that continues to the rough edge of people
besieged by grief huddled nearby if not together in the flood.
I can't help but stand there and kick the water
while looking over my shoulder at loneliness.
Somewhere behind me, there is nothing.

It's not just what I heard
but who I heard it from
I hurt you? You hurt me, too
and brought in depression
Do I really deserve this much aggression?

Tell me that you'll stab me and I'll let you in
for a hug, and if it's the last one,
the one that I give you, then perfect

just perfect

If you want a war,
I'm captain and soldier
whatever the cause it's you and I'll be there
If you want a war
of consciences and guilt
until one of us drops dead
instead of the, "ain't doin this"
I will be the one
to do you in.

Since I've left my body have I since gone on a better way?
In this mess of nothingness, and don't get me wrong,
I assume all fault
is there any good at all that I could save?
What more am I than a hunk of meat
who fills its holes with food and drink
and drugs and barely thinks past any day but today?
I'm nothing.

Wind's comin in you crazy few wanderers
who
still wander in this madness we're still calling earth
can't you see, can't you see what's all around you?
Look! The walls. The walls are closin in, friend.
You're walking in circles while the world surrounds you,
is what you're doin. But, and I'm sorry for screaming,
you're free to go. By all means, pass this place.
Keep going, and go into the town, look around
and pass the time. It's a fine place for it.
You should know. When you leave, this
place for the next, for the next, for the next,
you'll find me. And all I do is sit. While I wait.
Why walk, when you can fly?

I will wear my love for you as you wake
not knowing if I'll be shaken so much today
that I'll let my back out from under support
that I'll let my soul slip sideways and wave goodby
while you look up at the snapping beams
wishing you were still asleep
I will write you a list of words as in our struggle with spoken verse
I am caught with what I mean to say stuck in meaningless whispers
Killing myself again, against your wishes, with cigarettes
spinning the secret notions and emotions in a song
I believe in nighttime you'll find my
praise of you as I sing, deeply

On a winter night,
listen at the window

Cold wind blowing on your face
and through your shirt
let the pressure go
Oh,
Invite my shyly into your space
feel that I'll be thankful
when I wake
that I surround you

He's not home ever anymore
so I sit and I whittle 'way time on the porch
while I wait to meet him again
I return to the stars, tracing days with my finger in air
Fractured back, swingin' limb
Some haunted monster to others who show refusal of humanly care

Work in progress. BLAH! Writer's block.
Work. in. pro. GRESS.

X: "**** it."
Ben by the Window: "Got a problem man?"
X: "I can't finish this and it makes me so mad because it was there and now it's gone like that."

X snaps fingers. Snaps. fin. gerrs.

X: "Stop nursin that potato, ya *****, come on, give it, pass it."
Window Ben: "You keep writin and writin, so what are ya gonna do with it?"

X hits that ****. Hits. dhat. shiiiiiiiiiit.

X: "Ben. That's not right. This, is, the doing with. Get it?"

ex cough cough cough exhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaale.

Things could be swept away just as easily
as the words I rain again on you.
Between a breathy verse you might turn around
to give my spoken heart its procession.
- but communication fails me with a weary tongue.
Symptoms come of a loneliness, struck with
a withering for the cold shoulder.
Meaningless, bleating it, leaving backward
to satellite.