Coffee stained sweaters
swollen bit lips
mistakes that stayed forever
wounds that never healed
apologies told
relationships mended
now that I have you
I'm reminded by how it ended

I search for tones in your speech
quivers in your voice
hints in your texts
movements in your body
I can't forget how we failed
how we might make it this time
and why either is
just as likely as the other

Do I love you?
Or am I just used to you?

There once was a poet
who was very much alive
he'd write everyday
sometimes late into the night
his poetry was his craft
a never ending ascent into madness
a read of his work
was a trip into darkness

He was fascinated by death
by how simple it was
he imagined the light being as bright
as the white of a dove
he loved rhyming tricks
how they'd guide a reader
along a waterfall of words
the more the steeper

but he wasn't famous
he wasn't beloved
this tore him apart
and led him to what?
no i didn't hear that
a modern day Van Gogh
only 25
too young for him to go

And if a picture was worth
a thousand words
then my actions
should speak a thousand verbs

And if actions speak
louder than words
then let my speech
rise loud like a thousand birds

And if birds prove
it's possible to fly
then I can tell you
how I love you and why

And if a broken clock
is right twice a day
then maybe there's a chance
I can find the words to make you stay

There were ten boys in a room
numbered one through ten
they all lived peacefully
until the moment when
number ten took a liking to
number seven's suede shoes
three defended ten while
six and seven made a truce

ten shot a rocket
with questionable aim
after which we find
number two had been slain
eight and nine shot back
with a sling shot blast
while ten used four
to cover his ***

four perished, as one
came to his aid
spraying blindly
over where four laid
when it was over
only seven and ten remained
while one fell over exhausted
his resources drained

seven looked down at his shoes
which after the fighting were no longer new
he took them off one by one
and handed them to ten
deciding the war was no longer needed
ten thanked seven and walked away
to the corner and turned around
he'd fight again another day

Let's play a game
grab a glass and take a seat
let's play until you or me
can not rise to our feet
think about your lover
and where she is now
that she isn't with you
and the sweat above your brow

Did you over think?
Drink

think about your life
where you thought you'd be in 10 years
20 years ago
how you're holding back tears

Did you over think?
Drink

think about yourself
the man your parents raised
have you lived up to expectations
as your EKG plays

Did you over think?
Drink

They say money is time
but technically time does not exist
so we need to make money
because time is what we make it

but money is power too
because to make money takes time
which we do not like to spend
so people who crave it quick turn to crime

but money is freedom
giving us time to do with what we wish
the power of choice
the ability to switch

but money is material you say?
simply paper?
real life is spiritual ay?
well see if a smile pays the bills

regardless of what you think
accept that money is a choice
and realize no one listens
to the man without a voice

So deface it if you will
belittle it if you want
but money is microphone
although I am no savant

I know money is money
and not much else
so treat it as such
and save yourself

To write a love song
you need to love
with a feeling as pure
as the white fur of a dove
clean as a whistle
sharp as a knife
with the vision of a psychic
to make her your wife