I'm in a foul little funk called 'Living'
Sometimes the best way to cope with it
is not to cope at all
I'll take my ball
and go home from an unfair game
slip through a door, unlocked
with tumblers turned by a chemical key

It sets a tremor creeping up my legs
like new ice crawling over a window pane
it pecks and plucks its way back down my spine
furtive, like raindrops down the glass
or an overambitious child,
talked down from the swaying, voraciously growing twigs
at the top of the tree.

There are moments
No, this is not one
But there are moments, when I see it all stretched out
When the nagging feeling
that it's all some cruel joke
Plants its feet
and puffs it's chest, hands akimbo
like a comic book hero
to proclaim that, yes indeed
the world does love kicking you when you're down.

And you do realize
that you're working hard to make someone else rich?
Yes, I realize.
And you realize
that you're paid by the plodding clock-tick hour?
Well, yes. Of course.

So you're selling your life.
Minutes and hours, true.
But you ARE selling your life. Your sweat and blood. And your time.
Your TIME. The only thing you'll never get any more of.

Yes, I realize.

We will never laugh the same again.
We'll still laugh, deep and long, convulsive, a beast of its own mind in us, tickling out each particle of air to leave a rumpled heap of aftershocks.
We'll still laugh, but it won't be at once. It won't be as one.
It won't be like two happily nodding ***** users seeing the glint of the drug in the other's eye. Sharing something made better for the sharing.
Preeminently aware of every nerve in sweating skin brushing sweating skin.
We won't laugh like we did at the final snap of a strained, and fraying tether to the rest of the world.

We were laughing for want of something to say. Laughing to say what words can't. Laughing at the joy and absurdity of finding such joy in something so near and dear.

And we laughed out of more than a little fear.
So fearful of being laid bare, scraped clean of subtle lies and omitted truths.

We can still enjoy ourselves.
But it will never be that same fearsome, roaring, glorious unknown.

Poetry should no more feel like poetry than a magician's act should feel like a series of tricks.

The light from the streetlamps squirms it's way through a ***** windshield
Miles of that road-dust, old and new, takes it due portion of the light
grabs it, casts it all reeling off, diffused

But it's ok, because now we're here, standing outside a corner store, charmingly ****** and completely bulletproof.
It has a sign that says 'Yes, we are open' and a thick, oily padlock that says 'No, we aren't'
It's like a sickly smile and a kick in the shins
A corner store like any other, except for the sound
The bass guitar flexes like a circus strongman breaking handcuffs
And pounds it's all-conquering vibe through the walls of the basement, through the brick and mortar and sidewalk-flagstone
Really more symbols that actual obstacles
The drums are syncing well, sunk as they are in the earth
We approach and find a subtler, silver-tarnish voice, worming it's way through ***** and crack
It's a pawnshop guitar, sizzling like a hot pan
It bounces like a drunk off the brick walls of the stairs leading down
Staggers it's way up, to invite you in
It's deadened just slightly by the giddy, rapidly cooling bodies relaxing there
in the no-man's-land between indoors and out, smoking,
drawing burnt-atomized sophistication in.
We mount the top stair, great explorers regarding a mountain, and proceed to climb down.
Every eye looks up, carefully half-lidded, and bored.
But for an instant, every single one has a message squirm it's way through the dust: "Yes, I am open. Please think I'm interesting. Please think I'm worthwhile."

I'd pull a pratfall just to keep that smile wide and real
I'd pull my somersaults and dance a brilliant fever frenzy
I'd grab those carol bells and shake them in a brilliant peal
And no not anything you'd ever do could possibly offend me

I'll tell you stories, curl your toes with all delight or fright
I'll run through tall grass, hauling string behind to raise your kite
I'm in your thrall, I'll beg and crawl, and caterwaul
If I should think I've come ever so near to dealing you a sleight

I'll pull a pratfall
Because I'd rather be loved as a fool
Than not be loved at all.

Wrote you a letter but I wrote it
On the wall
You could come see it but I know you're not at my
Beck and call
I just came by here to recite it but I
Can't recall
But I came by so that should
Be enough

And it's enough well it should, be enough
And it's enough well it should, be enough

It all looks different from up here above
Street level
And I had to wreck some things to build it up to
Get this view
And now I see each conversation formed a
Full circle
With a dead center, no good reason, what do you want to do?

Is it enough, well I doubt it's, enough.
Is it enough, well I doubt it.

Let's find ourselves a little puddle
Dive on in and swim

Pretend to be big fish in
a little pond, such a fun game

But you know now each time it seems to always
End the same.
With me dry and you dripping.

Take a step back.
As a matter of fact.
And reconsider.
What you want out of love.

Though when I tried to do likewise
You took it quite bitter
I'll be the bigger one
But I am no babysitter

I'd like to slip a little bit of me
Under the door
And have a look around

You've got your deadbolts tight
Play risky with your light
And now it's all burning down.

Little glass soldiers
and their ranks swell
they fall in lockstep, clacking on the tabletop
and how many, I can't tell

Notes over the air
Loud enough to force a pair
Who want to talk
A little closer together

To be completely forthright
I have this kind of insight
somewhere between seldom
and never

I couldn't say, now, why I came
Except to watch the people dance
but from the corner, a loaded glance
and I forget my name

And I forget my name.

I
I have to look away
and I
Haven't got the faintest notion why I feel this way but I
I
I'll bet I say something wrong and all dutch courage gone and maybe I should stand and go or risk letting my strangeness show and staring at the bartop wood and didn't notice when she stood and heart is ramming through my chest and barely felt her light caress and eyes **** up to catch a dark pair staring back at me and I
I
Forget
There's only her
And she's smiling back.