Our Ghost tonight,
Sits with me,
******* down Parliaments,
And bearing the words of Crosby, Stills, and Nash,
Singing of a ghost all their own.

Hovering in the periphery,
A constant watcher,
Constant companion,
Constant 2nd,
Constantly hoping to be 1st.

Cuckolded in emotions,
Unknowingly,
Which makes it worst I suppose,
Being torn apart by unrequited feelings,
Unknown indifference.

A gossamer-thin whisp of a thing,
That ghost at the edge of the vision,
Ever present but unseen,
Speak to me,
You have only but to speak,
To be seen!

The track ends,
I'm brought back,
Our spectral friend is gone,
Sneaking out as CS&N cries,
Making me wonder where they went

New Heights
New hires
No Shows
Yes sires
King Earth
Wealth perth
Owner
Commander an Z
Go Sleep
No Zee
Camps Awake
Clapped Cheeks
Grown Cheech

Alley Cat
Roam the Village
Gun safe racked
Us armed
Bullet proof windows
Kevlar vest
Team on my back
Crest on my chest
Central best
Central west
Paint go bang
Whole city gang
385 million arms

For thy Nation
The Greatest
Who Paved it
We crave it
We beg it
We fight it
We grave it
We write it
We wrote it
Dont Quote it
Quote hit
Numbers climbing
Bodies piling
Bible lying
God ******
So tragic
Face traffic

Cult classic

Turning pages, fast asleep
I dreamt of waking
and just letting things be
while threading this 5:00 am sun
between my fingers
braiding the rays into tethers
that hold onto yesterday
and today, without alteration

What a story it would read

As I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to take
Ease my pain, for I am broken
Make still my thoughts
Toss out my dreams like the ash
Of a fire that died ages ago.

My will is gone
My strength is waning
I pray for sleep
But never waking.

the sky is sopping up
                smears of weather from the city day
filling out darkly
  the portly host of the eve   ushers us into warm dens
nature starts the night shift
it appraises

this night is rat dog    recovering from urban filth
                                       rolling in grass dew and spoil

the tainting of the air     is contributed to from abroad
migration of contraband fumes (forest fires out west)
                                     and the heat raises

too populated   to hold a proper witching hour
the night in shifts
any slumber has its quality watered down 
                                    the constant street activity

weeping sunrise   nights excuses stopper   inebriation rests
arrested blight   morning light and everything about
your crushable body smiles naked things
i roll over to face the uncurtained window
hunch out of bed and stilt my way
to support my self at the sill

overcast with an invasive muffle of smog
members of the bright-time    pooling for occupation
                      do not remember the night
                                it's simply poor sleep

i suffer through restless nights
sleeping upright, feeling uptight
i dig my nails into the bedside
casting curses into the twilight
you might then find me among those fools
who walk the streets between dog and wolf
but there are devils in the detail
sprites that hide between the cracks
i pour over concrete slabs to find
their bright eyes peering back
and if i find them we might speak
and if we speak we might agree
they might agree to let me sleep
and i might let my demons be

I wake up. But hey!

How many hours did I sleep? --


Where am I? And when?

Soft falls the light around your face
which drinks the night
and leaves no trace upon your sleeping form
as you lie curled and safe and warm
who am I to know or see
the secrets that you keep from me
we give our minds to flights of dreams
but keep them to ourselves it seems