I ain't a friend, I'm a foe;
I am an enemy, oh

My carriage
is made of wood

My horses are drawn and quartered
I will cater to your fastidious command
I'm not doing anything suspicious
because

I ain't a friend I'm a foe;
I am an enemy, oh
(I ain't afraid of a fool;
I am an innovator)

This back
will never carry the weight
I will always lose my place
I'll never be late
Did I mention that is one nice sword?
Can I see it for a second?

I ain't a friend I'm a foe;
I am an enemy, oh
(I ain't afraid I'm a foe)

I am sick
after lunchtime wine
If I encounter the divine
I promise to challenge
I would never lie to you
because

I ain't a friend I'm a foe;
I am an enemy, oh
(I ain't afraid of a fool;
I am am an innovator)

I ain't a friend I'm a foe;
I am an enemy, oh.

And it's pathetic
And you're incessant

Cleanse the wound but disregard the preference

You're anesthetic
I'm apathetic
Clears the drain, but clogs up the septic

I wish you hadn't done that
(I wish I didn't do it)

There's no place like home

The people who see
me for me
don't like it and would rather i be
Someone who is not me
and that i'd prefer to be.

Dust-covered two-lane highways
Catch the footfalls of my meanderings.
Meadowlarks and Phoebe-birds
Sing backup to my tuneless whistles.
Clouds illuminated by God-rays
Paint the sky above my head
And the Man in the Moon
Smiles as I bed neath a willow for the night.

I am a wanderer, a vagabond, a ***.
The iron wrought train tracks
I secretly ride pass through the fields,
The forests, the mountains and valleys,
The cities and suburbs, the small towns too,
Home to so many who choose there to dwell.
But my home is the open countryside,
The fields of wildflowers and bushes,
The occasional oak or poplar for shelter,
With a stone for my pillow
Anywhere I wish to rest.

I am a wanderer, a vagabond, a ***.
I am the outsider.

such a small word
blending into the background
always making an appearance
but never recognized
so used
so beaten up
so lost among the swirling fog
such a simple concept
but as familiar to us as water
slowly trickling over our sentences
over our words
embellishing our writing without us even knowing
sometimes
i like to think
that we should become more aware
of the little things
of the tiny details
of the lowercase
in our lives



-k.l.

Do you ever feel like you’re not really there?
Like people aren't ignoring you, they just can’t see you?
Do you feel that you’re a face easily forgotten
And a voice always outspoken?
It’s like there’s a one-way window between you and the rest of the world
And you’re the one always looking in.
And you know it probably won’t ever change.
But you can’t help but hope that someone on the other side dares to look out and see you.