as the birds fly south for winter
the excavators come home to roost.
they bow their heads to the ground,
wishing for wings to tuck their necks under.
everyone guards piles of salt and twisted metal
brushed cold and golden by the sun.
a boat lifts its arms to the sky,
all rattling chains and gentle, grasping claws.
gentlemen, best prices for scrap here:
all metals, all amounts.
the highway crawls home.

looking into
your eyes,
i wouldn't think
of getting lost
in them.

instead,
your eyes
are a getaway
where i find myself.

All of a sudden, I am there again. With out any warning. Stranded, on a little island, inside myself. I can see and hear people, but I can’t make out what they are saying. Or who they are even.  I’m just stuck, on my island feeling numb.

It can happen frequently, hourly even, yet sometimes weeks will go by when I don’t visit that place. Then, again, out of no where, I’m back. Surrounded by a Black Sea of nothingness.  Sometimes I can save myself, swim away. Dry off and go about my day as if I were never there. Other times I stay wet from the water, i feel sodden and heavy, irritated by the salt.

I’d like to say it gets easier being there but I think I have just become accustomed to it. Accepting of it, almost.

I don’t want to accept it, but it’s less draining that way. Or maybe that’s what I hope. I’m not sure any more.

I visited my island today. Not out of choice you see, I just seemed to drift there, taken by the current. I stayed a short while.

I would like to stay away, from that island, if i could. But it all depends on the tide.

An island lets itself go.
In rising  water finds a friend;
The past comes to naught.

I feel empty
Empty inside
I want to run away
But there’s nowhere to hide
**** it
I’ll just get in a boat
And go for a ride
Set the sails
And go with the tide
I’ll go with the wind
Wherever it blows
All I need is a drink
And something to smoke

I’ll escape to an island
To a place in the sun
With no one else
Just me and my gun
That’s all I need
To be out in the sticks
Peace and quiet
And somewhere to think
It’s not the end
Just the start
Only me
And my broken heart

We’ll just sit there
And talk things through
Look back at the times
Of just me and you
When I’m down
I just look around
I see the trees
And some clouds
Grey skies around me now
I close my eyes
And look at the floor
Flick the switch
And feel no more

One day, I will return
to the place where dreams
come alive, in Agua Azul.

A place where if I had
an anchor of a feeling,
I would be a sailboat
on the beach full
of our burning desires.

Where the silver moon
rises in the evening time.
It will be my reward,
during sleepy hours.