There's talk of rules in a capitol,
Whispers around Moscow
Of how to act clandestinly.

On how to move in the shadows,
Of acting without notice & silently.
On how to avoid & evade,
Of how to deflect & debate.
On how to turn people over,
Of how to churn up info.
On how to survive the living
Of an actor of a foreign agency.

There's talk of rules in a capitol,
Whispers around Washington
Of how to get away with things.

Still feel cold, even here
frozen by your long forgotten gaze
crave for the purity of a white centered star
with its boundless, awful blaze.
Bottle of sunblock, useless in the drawer
I want to burn all my skin off
I want to forget who I was before,
peel myself back and call myself yours.

No storms in Scottsdale, Arizona
smells like rough dirt and control
no wetness in my brand new persona
only this chaste stoicism, I extol.
At the mercy of a callous sun
stuck in the convenience store,
with the dollar pack gum
and neon aisles
waiting on someone's merciless son
put me out and call me mercantile.

Bright and unforgiving florescence
security camera nailed to the wall
here forever, herded by invisible presence
popped open, and losing my effervescence
always in stock, always on call.
Middle of nowhere
and still not lost at all
in the land of desperation
all there is to do is wait
holed up in some air conditioned haven
believing in the fiction of fate
something deep inside of me
is going rotten,
threatening to break.
I've gone past my best by date
put me out
out of my misery
tired of this mirage and it's bewitchery
let me into the wild
to fall to my own devices
no longer a fool for you
and all your sugar-sweet vices.

I can feel myself going stale
paralyzing fear of failure
flooding out my blazing trail.
Face growing paler
forgetting to go outside
still and forsaken, lonely sailor
long gone with the tide.
My teachers used to say I am gifted
where is my prize?
Now I aspire for nothing
and it is no surprise.

Cutting down that giant fig tree
if I can't have it all
I will be nothing
wield my axe, wait for the fall
no one is bluffing.

and I want to know
how long can you stare at the sun
until you are blind?
How much do you give away
before you are considered kind?
I fear I am searching for something
I'm not sure I will ever find.

just about eye height

the second board from the left of the splintered shelf in the shed
and its just about why i

stand beside the wasps nest in calm sweat like palms melt somewhere in my pockets
but its more about the time by

which i find a trowel on the wall beside the power that ive always needed to decide to recall
because its really when my mind dies

that i find that such denial can be freeing although always seeming fleeting
and thats the moment with my eyes wide

stuck inside the shed

Here i am in bed again
10 feet in too deep again
tiny scars and fixed up cuts again
Paper opends it back up again
It Paints my nails way too red again
Bandages from friends again
I tear them off because they burn again
The scent of stress hangs in the air again
I close my eyes because it blinds again
Here i am im home again

think im going back to bed again

at the bus stop with a juice box
and a heart full of love.
on the pavement an arrangement
of impersonal hugs.
how i miss you when im with you
and what it used to be like.
over blue ice saying white lies
ill be quiet tonight.