I see you in bars all the time
with other men
groping
for a way across the room
with another woman
sideways on
are you looking past
her too
hoping
asking
would I fit
through
such a close sat
bar crowd

are you with a cousin
just a friend or two
will your eyes meet mine
is that woe in your blue
I try to rein in
but happily resign
to a seesaw glass renewed

and I'm glancing
at the next round
bottom
behind bars
it's too easy
to replace you
miss or ms
or mix you in the crowd
warm and fuzzy
I rise above this scene
this love of guesses
I float between
the bars
and get over
the faces

to where another balloon
escapes unattached
no
the string shakes
loose
and curves go on and on
into the blurry blue
when when
I look back
you're following too
beyond bars to.. what?

looks like lakes
bathing me and you
in starry eyed lights
but is it all in the drinks
or a top up of a view
am I about to find out
it's not behind
it's not in front
it's all in the now
I'm locked into
your bars

roaming hands
off my guard
******* up to you
we squeeze between bars
and
cors
***
pour me down

I can feel the changes
You are my addiction
I used to think you're a dentist
You give me some kind of filling
I blame the way that we living
That has my feet on the edge
Nicknamed your love Wels Fargo
How I was putting in check
My friends would talk and say you weren't loyal and give it a rest
But you impress me
No need for yelling
You handle the stress
You used to handle a tech
When you were so out of place
Initials double H
So that means double hate
But all the fellas who've seen you
Knows that you keep a reliever
You've seen more L's than the bobcats arena
You keep it incognito
But you're far from a bully
When it comes to ink you're a monster
Mike wazowski and sully
You're a diamond in the rough
You have a special shine
There is no competition
You're the hottest thing out
Them others may claim you
But they know that you're mine
Girl
I'd Jehovah witness for you
I'm out here knocking doors down

While the clock ticks to the hour, yesterday's remains washed
clean in the shower
To obtain her power
Applying her make-up for the night, making sure everything's
just right, holding tonight doesn't end in a fight
She'll do anything she can
To please a man, even if it's not part of the plan
The night is coming to its peek
It's the money that she will seek
Each night at the bar, hopping tonight she'll go far, we all
know what you are
We can see the attention you crave, by the way you behave
You're willing to be any mans nightly slave
& you only pretend to be brave
As the bar doors close, you return to your hoes, you think you're
slick & nobody knows about your ***** shows
I can't tell you what to do
But just remember when they are through, they'll just leave you,
you're their ***** fling, their one night thing
They'll never be your king nor give you a ring
So go home, feeling alone
Waiting by your phone
But let it be known
When you're pretending to be nice it's because
Your love cones with a price!!

what have i to do with these grips,
these squared, white knuckles
holding tight to handle bars?
what have i to do with these empty stares,
eyes void of truth?

these "fill-in-the-bubble, A B or C, music only reaches the ears" types of humans
attempting to tell me how to carry out my existence,
attempting to tell me the most efficient
practical
mindless ways to die?
attempting
to tell me
to show me
the most rewarding ways
to die.

what have i to do with these sculptors
who try and quantify the rain,
who try and evaporate
the sun?
what have i to do with these ideas of perfection, of what is best?
these assumptions of false fulfillment,
these preludes to orderly, institutionalized chaos
and contempt?
what have i to do with all of these cardboard boxes
which cannot differentiate between being filled
empty
open
closed
soft
rough
dry
loved?
what have i to do with those who cannot detect their own storms,
their own energy waiting to explode?
what have i to do with one shade of blue?
what have i to do with feet that cannot move,
knees that cannot bend?
what have i to do with white houses
black cars
trimmed bushes
a front porch?
what have i to do with stationary?
what have i to do with these wings
unless they are free to flutter?
what have i to do with structure
with corners
with average
with plain?
what have i to do with boredom
with settling
with insignificant breath?

what have i to do with waste?
what
have i
to do
with waste.

Oneida says she's out of time
for mining lies from crooked minds
and spending nights
     beneath strange blankets
street-to-street, tab at a time.

She says she's wasted years
killing hours for days on end
turning bar booths into confidants
     and neon signs to friends
She's held on for so long
     to her town, to trust, to hopes
But when her shaking hands start sweating,
          she starts
     to think of letting go.

Oneida's got the map, a tank of gas
          and miles to drive
But she won't listen to her screaming gut:
     she's played deaf her whole ******* life
She'll be swearing at the stars
while her feet trace the boulevards
and the window lights shine yellow
bathing sidewalks in question marks

     But Oneida knows these streets
          like she knows me

Oneida says she's leaving town
her last dime spent on dollars down
she's hedged her bets
     on 1st and twenty-
fifth at the depot.

She wants to hear new chimes
where new bells ring in brand new climes
turning traitors into confidants;
          acquaintances to friends
She's held tight for so long
     to each hand that dealt her wrong
But when her cards start flushing royal
          she starts
     to think she might not fold.

Oneida's got the will, a tank of gas
          and time to drive
But will she listen to her screaming gut?
          She's played deaf
          her whole ******* life
She'll be cursing at the stars
while her feet trace the boulevards
while the window lights gleam yellow
soaking sidewalks in question marks.

          But Oneida knows these streets
          like she knows me...

a mile past the last street light
an empty night full of passing trucks
i don't remember walking this far
but i don't remember where the black eye
or the bottle of whiskey came from either

he must have hit like a *****
whoever he was
because the bottles empty and i still don't feel a thing
just the way i like it

I miss my baby, he told lies maybe
Left me thinking, got me drinking
Told him: You won't notice me for I differ a million miles from your eyes.
The first time I saw him in Mendoza, Between the bars
He's wise and tall, I couldn't resist him at all
Now he's the axis and I have totally lost control
He's in my viens.
God,  I'm going insane
He's everything I've been looking for
And maybe a little bit more.

Our old uncle, Daedalus,
     he'd grin when he spoke to us
His mouth was missing teeth
and so his wisdom flowed out free
He always smelled of cheap cigars
     alleyways and corner bars
He'd tell us he had seen the world
     and this was his decree:

     "Don't fly too high, you little *****.
       You just might live to pay for it.
       The Sun is always hot,
       the ground gets harder every day."

"But, Daedalus," we would complain,
"You are old and we would fain
see the sights you saw before
          we sleep beneath the clay."

And dear old Uncle Daedalus
     he'd laugh and spit and swear at us
"You ******* little ***** had better
heed the tale I tell.
This life is one big ******* maze
with twists and turns and tricks to play.
The kings control the monsters,
who make Earth a living Hell."

We'd try to listen, try to thank
him for the words, but his breath stank
and, anyway, we thought that he
               had prob'ly **** himself

But dear old Uncle Daedalus
hung Death from lips that spoke to us
and ****** if he weren't right
about the things he always said:
"Inventiveness works, by and by
with daring, you may taunt the sky
                                   like I did
                                  but the fall is long--
my dreams and son are dead."

He always smelled of cheap cigars
     alleyways and corner bars
"You ******* little ***** had better
heed the tale I tell..."

"Don't fly too high, you little *****.
You just might live to pay for it.
The kings control the monsters,
who make Earth a living Hell."

Down a glass of wine and hold it to your ear.
A mock ocean swirls in its holy emptiness.
You are sitting at the bottom- with nothing but death wishes
and sweet kisses.
A small hope for real love oozes from clasped fingers.
But you squeeze it away to sing karaoke at the next bar.
They love you because you are free and boundless like the red balloon
that floats in their heads,
simultaneously.
You can own them all with your laugh- how personable you are.
A pseudo sociopath on the verge of make-believe
horror stories, spilling out on to the bar-
with your last drink.
Let them think you don't play dumb.
Let them think you don't drink yourself numb.
Stomp away with your cigarette-
Do they know you know they know?
It doesn't matter- call the next one over.
The ocean will always crash in your glass-
an empty temple of company.