The airwaves live in the day.
What they whisper,
I cannot say,
but what I know
is that when they go
their message will live on in my head.

And what's in my head
should not be said
and when the night ends
all that will be found
is a life I could not fit my arms around.

I've been paying attention more to the airwaves of ether we weave
And also the air around town or wherever else
I feel somewhat inclined to sit in a half crossed and dead legged pose
Clicking the keys of letters in hackneyed prose

You notice a noise and you look up to see
You hear the voice that you wanted to be
Calling for you from the opposite wall of the room
That smiles and laughs despite those people who
Scout out the cues like Jr. Detectives

Waves of the ocean
Waves of the brain
Waves of the air rush
Over wires in the rain.