We sing and that's how

we make a very good time --


out of the waiting.

I sing, cautiously,

just to myself, still without --


anyone hearing.

Vanity lights.
Production sets.
Heat on high.
Dim lit.
Fame is all in your head.

Truffles in the air.
Wine stained carpets.
Knife over the bed.
Lipstick bruises.
The low numbers aren't fair.

A throbbing migraine or two.
Smoke envelopes the halls.
Hushhh, play another lullaby.
Of course not all dreams come true.
There'll always be a new one, more than you.

Maybe later it's going to get better
Maybe later it's going to be fi-ine

Maybe later it's going to get better
Maybe later it's going to be fine...

Dancing at the equilibrium
Trying to fulfill the balance
Of the night
Of the night
Of the night....

Singing a mantra

together, sounds full of life --


in - out of ourselves.

The work is hard, but

every night we sing away --


all our tiredness.

          Summerlight sunflight—
     singsonging songbirds singing,
winging blue heaven.

I sat atop the roof so high,
And sang my mournful lullaby.

Years went and the tears went
Pouring down my face. A crier
At heart, emotions run my game,
Though I was never taught how to play.

When the going gets tough,
Pull yourself up by the bootstraps,
Making sure not to hang yourself
In the process of “equality for all”.

There’s nothing equal about love, and
There’s nothing fair about emotional reactions.
Both happen spontaneously, subconsciously,
And
Suddenly
You’re living a life you never imagined.

I’m tired of singing this sad soliloquy.
It’s time to leave the roost.