the shore washed up and fell right into your rose filled bones and all that your said was that you're changing your heart again, i dont understand why your favourite flowers are daisies but your hair smells like lemons and i guess yellow burns in your eyes, every time the sun sets to golden tones you pack your bags to run again but nighttime will come faster than that 9:07 train and you'll remember your date with the moon's craters and spray paint cans that hurt your back with the weight, except that graffiti doesn't have much weight to you anymore, paint over the scars, under the bruises, and lick your lips in the light of a streetlamp; there's a ripped up parking ticket in your back pocket & 19 ways out of that burning silver feeling that you can solve in this city by noon tomorrow

A survivor still grows
I came upon it by chance
A survivor that arouse
I wonder if it was design, desire or happenstance?

That it found it's way
To that strange spot
What keeps the cars and tires at bay?
I know not

Wonder it is will?
Or perhaps spite?
Either way seeing it gives me a little thrill
I speak to it now and then to encourage it's fight

As you can see
I got a picture back then
Should it be gone on the morrow, it would sadden me
But the parking lot is not exactly a secluded glen

~Wes Noneya

If parking lots aren't art, they are at least a gallery,
cars as the masterpieces which we gawk at, pretending
to be smart -- "ah, a famous Lamborghini piece."
And if that still isn't art, then call it something else -- a form of beauty beyond our comprehension, made by no one and everyone in this town.
Those construction workers who made this are ghostly sculptors of asphalt.
The yellow lines on the road are delicate brushstrokes, laid down by the most careful of craftsmen.
One day this parking lot will turn to dust,
and that is where the beauty comes from.

Girl, you're so hot
You devastate the sports cars in this vast parking lot
Except all your emissions are beneficial
And far from toxic
You're what I can take in
For the rest of these days
But you're going to have to be in it too
Which I hope you are
Because you won't have to look far
To find the help you need

Light and dark,

the cars stop to park,

while the driver becomes a dream.



Day and night,

he puts up a fight,

to stay at bay with his dreams.



Days and weeks,

they all seem so bleak,

while the driver becomes his dream.

I've been falling asleep in the back of the bar lately & I am not sure which way is up and which way is down.
"He" leads me down the stairs to the parking lot and rips my dress off me like its ***** laundry... But who he is... I don't even know.

It's been long enough for me to move on and get over you but there's something in the way the light shines against my hands that makes my heart ache.

You aged like wine and I aged like moldy cheese but we never found the perfect combination to keep us together.

I've been falling asleep in bars... And the bartender told me I can't come back anymore.
"He" took me home... But where that is.... I don't even know.

I don't think we were meant to end quite yet but you took two steps back with each one of my steps forward. I leapt before I could even crawl let alone walk.

You are still perfectly unhappy and I'm still researching the meaning of life... And even though part of me doesn't want you back... The other part of me still wants one last kiss.

I've been falling asleep in bars since i returned back west & I don't know if I'm just exhausted or miserable these days... But man... I hate beer.

Music pounding, I felt it in my bones
Bouncing around my ribcage;
The only place I've felt at home.
This intruder destroying the walls of my heart.
Debris falling like lead to the pit of my stomach.


The dizzying lights
And astounding heights.
Falling through space,
Seeing his face.

Music pounding, I felt it in my bones
Shaking around inside my skull
Voiding every thought, zeroed and null.
In a crowd of people, feeling alone.
Each breath of cool air, through every pore.

The dizzying lights
And astounding heights.
Falling through space,
Seeing his face.

Music pounding, I felt it in my bones.
And I wonder,
Where is my home?
As I slept, I wondered,
Where is my home?

her critical thinking gone astray
her tupperware mind seals in the flavor of her intents
nail polish chipped
no ring to show the lay of the land
bright eyed with hints of joys
sunglasses askew
lipstick on her neck
this casual girl
in one brief moment our worlds collide
parking lot of seven eleven
she is a complex song not to be heard
but to be felt with the heart
this casual girl
she unbuttons her shirt
and shows her new tattoo
woven pattern of snakes and flowers
reflection of the mind perhaps
reflection of the casual girl and her inner tears
my heart grips this as she turns to leave
this casual girl
slave to her moment
she must go with the crowd
she must be a popular girl
in that brief moment our worlds collided
she spun like the summer sun free of her tears
she lived for my presence for the first and last time
she desired to speak to me
i never even knew
this casual girl