Before, I did not know what it was to be weary. I felt the distress of a flower in bloom. And somehow, I was flower that knew I was doomed to die. And stricken with such a weight, I compressed myself behind a pane of glass, And became brittle as I prolonged the death of my purity. Flat, dry, and faded, but I still hold my shape, Under the pressure of the glass pane.
A berry stained sidewalk in summer, A man stabbed his brother coloring the carpet with blood, The tears stain the hearts of humanity, And stained glass windows, Sit stoically upon building heights, Showing off perfect stains in defiance to all the imperfect ones.
The searing pain inside my brain makes me want to right out a poem. She moved in so close I could feel the electricity there within . The words would fail me like a lovers lament will do . The kisses were as crispy as the laptop from which they flew . And everyone knew you were looking through the bay window of your time .
The paperboy delivered much more than my morning news . And Cathy moved to New Orleans with Danny as it was her will to choose . And the nighthawks few in the lights it was a sight to see . Ken kept slinging beers while he dreamed of dreams that would never be . Still I see it all in the window of my pane .
I sometimes dream of Judy and the reasons we could never be . There's a Red Mountain resting underneath the apartment holding me . It was up hill , downhill , and it was unreasonable so it seemed . Anytime you had complaints they would surely scream . I see it all now through the windowpain of my mind .
People moving in With their suitcases on board Standing everywhere Fumbling to their seats. "MAY I SEE YOUR BOARDING PASS?"
Plane flies on the runaway Diving into the clouds Into a puff of wind and smoke. We fly.
I sat unmoved For the rest of 16 hours. I thought I had been fossilized. Hardened. But I saw it flying Us flying to mi casa Time is rolling backwards My lips tugging backwards No more jetlagging. I held on to a light of a hope with a lopsided grin. Perhaps, It's time to say hello To the land long forgotten The land with cozy saturday mornings Where we have dinner at 7pm, not 9. The land that I long to be in Where I had been long gone is 60 minutes apart.