Oh, what a predicament
My illusion of the world
it coats my eyelids
I'm the buzz of a bee in a swarm of glee
Many nights, many nights
I've wasted; in someone else's dream
What is it that they envision?

Because the night pains and bores me through
I can't stand it
One more boring allegory
It means nothing
While I sit here neatly
trimming
every friend I've ever made, out of my life

Because the night wanes and sews me through
I looked patched up now, someone else's pain now
One more boring call's awaiting
One more time to haunt the doorways
The door, oh my, the door
How could I have known
I'd find the box cutter more dangerous than a gun
With a closed door, and my palms on the floor
But it comes from the soul, no worries
I can take it

Because the night wasn't for me, was it
One more time, for glory, was it
Enchanted by the marble looking
Right back at me , arms awaiting
Your story doesn't mean anything
Comfort me and be accommodating
One more time, my palms are waiting,
Cover me in arms, awaiting
My, oh, my
Why do I

Because the night pains and lures me through
one more boring allegory
I cannot take it; my arms are waiting
One, don't do what the arm's narrating
Two, Place the mattress on your body
And visit the morning
Because the night pains,
and you must make it through

Things have happened while I was away
I've grown and grown
In the space between reality
and the roof I sit on.
After years,
I still want to describe the clouds as I see them
And I still don't find the words
My breath is still as short as my hair
Everything, everywhere is as blurry as ever,
in more ways than one
But I've grown and grown
The rooms are too small for me,
The air is too thin for me,
I take leaps of faith, lightly
Light as lead ever was
I don't like the darkness,
I want to reach the sun
And dear World,
When I have grown and grown,
Promise me,
you'll grow bigger still
Take my wings from me,
before I melt into the sea
I have all these dreams
In the space between reality
and the roof I sit on
What if I run out of room?

Medicine man
No breath on his lips
Sloshing liquid in his throat
Rise and fall in each step
Malady withers and blooms
As he walks up the cliff
A smudge on a ledge
Loss,
A smidgeon of hope
No claws on the man
Toss away, toss away, go home
Tomorrow he’ll open his eyes
The medicine man
With no breath on his lips
Lush,
a rise from the lone
In a yard full of bones
Dew on his fingertips
Oh medicine man
Take away, take away what he knows
Low, fly the crows
So long, hope grows

You see,
I seem to have caught
the deathly hug of hubris
I know everything
But what does it all mean?
The pleasures of life go right above my head
And time drips from my fingertips
Plip, plop, plip
I am a blip
And this hug,
Why does it make everything so sad?

this is where all the secrets are held
in the smell of yesterday's rain in the air
in the dark, and in that pool
in the little moonlight patch falling on my bed
with the window open and the air cool
and the night young and wild and a fool

There’s a bottle of my mother’s love
Sitting on the kitchen table
It’s gone sour
It’s Sunday morning,
In the piercing comfort of a place
I once would’ve called home,
And the world woke up and walked out on me

The aftermath of July grows right outside my bedroom window
While I sit on a desolate strip of imaginary sand,
With my head in a water cooler
As significant as an ill-fated horsefly