In loving you I found a philosophy of the human compassionate heart,
Beautiful in her inter-dimensional quest to sit next to me that day,
Or ask me some theoretical question I already had an answer to,

In loving you
It's you who must deliver my eulogy.

Were you simply a ghost, walking your way from coast to coast,

Spreading beauty like the sunlight and being the apparition of striking perfection…

Unreal how you made me curious,
But it’s pretty face, brains, gentle inflection,

Same equation as always.

God blessed Colorado when he placed you there, and laid out retribution by way of your departure,

But their lack of fortune is my insomnia ridden insecure daydream.

Because you sat next to me,
You sat in all your undeniable conquest of Eastern Kentucky,

And then vanished back into the crowd.

I look good in the background scenery,
It's just as sincere as the rest of this *******,
This styrofoam party that I had to dig my claws into
Just to feel alive for a few hours,
Just to blow off steam.

I'm as lost as I could be in this dark room
Where we touch each other
To make sure we're still real.

Would anyone look at the light in my eyes?

I see great constellations,
While some random guy holds his stomach in pain.

It's only genuine if you believe it is,
And I'm not buying.

But this pretty girl by the fence caught my attention
And was afraid in that moment,
And so was I.

I ran to anywhere that would accept me
And I happened to blend in,
But I entered the dance floor with a full bladder, a migraine and thoughts of no anxiety to worry about.

Through miles of nighttime wind on the highway and secondary remarks that meant nothing,

I barely remember what you look like,
But I'm sure you once left me breathless.

The terribly natural position of making poor choices,
And missing people
Even the ones who don't exist.

Convenience store where I stopped to buy poison gum *****,
Here I am baptized in the light of the new genesis.

For new life sprang up on the oil rigs
In the industrial world,
We live in a future no one dared to comprehend.

We blew up the old world with new ideas,
We couldn't resist the urge to push the button any longer,

I sit under my bed
Duck and cover Cold War safety,

Safe from communist war criminals,
So when is the bomb going to drop?

No, I don't believe the Earth is going to be reborn as a paradise...
A land of altruistic Eden.

The lost garden is doomed to burn up in the sun,
As is the mausoleum for my memory.

Best guesses say we aren't exactly advanced,
But what if there's exceptions in our numbers?

What if we sat awake in our tombs for all of eternity
And your soul keeps locked
Waiting for the oblivion of the unburnt citizens separated from the material world,

How great were our ambitions if they didn't stretch to something after this course of existence...

Then what right do we owe the Catholic church that was not there at the beginning of our symphony.

I'll show you a great story of illuminated migrations and books about the lights of the pillars of creation,

When they tell me that Walt Whitman's work here is not done,

And so walked into the bathroom to lock the door,

Wash his face before yelling on both coasts of the American Empire.

Our Prime Minister has flawless memory and offers us codeine syrups of all flavors to vote for the Environment.

You'll have me yelling about the importance of taxation,
You can't have me acting like this if I've already bought us tickets to the art gallery...

And can you even now believe that toddler's first reaction was to destroy that giant biblical oil on canvas.

Maybe it was the violence,

And the same God who gave us our nuclear training wheels.

The same God who kills men of euphoria under meteors

And the same God whose name was in the air on Inauguration Day.

When I drove down the rode with you and your new ideas about where to go...

You had words I didn't know,
But we had Prince on the radio,
And that's something I know well.

I have a Wilco CD in my backpack,
I have every reason to just set my alarm
And pass out in the passenger's seat.

We talk to fill a silent void,
But never more.

It speaks volumes.

Trading your morals for a supporting role,
Holding hands with upstart actresses while you hold the syringe
And swear this is all genuine.

This emptiness is the feeling of fame,
Waking naked on patios used as makeshift churches
Where the last of your secrets are sold for another half gallon of limelight.

It hit me suddenly that I had seen this room in a dream,
The concerning part being that I can't remember the nature of it or how it ended.

Was the crowd overtaken by pandemonium,
Or was my past spilling out into the future
Realizing that time was in fact not air tight?

Maybe some deity miscalculated my timeline...
Who can know for sure,
Yet I know how to navigate the gray tints of the room with not one moment of needed adjustment.

///

I never wanted to be back in the grind.

Routine wears at the creative mind like a weathered rock,
Rendered beyond repair.

It's ****** up if you think about it:

Wake up,
Slaves to the system sharpening the axe of the upper class,
Go to sleep,
Repeat,
Die.

And somehow, that's the accepted way of things.

We're perfectly okay with our fate
As long as we remain distracted.