leave me
you know
you don't need me

I picked the moon
off the sky
she's inside my pocket

She's mine
She's mine

don't lie

I won't believe you this time

leaving
so soon
I know
you don't need me

the moon is mine
the moon is mine

She's going to leave me

and
she will always comes back to me

I thought .
I thought I was crazy.
I thought I was crazy because I was not satisfied with the life I was living.
Is it crazy to be in comfort while stagnant ? I couldn’t see the logic in being content with average.
Average people do average things but I had to realize the average man is not equivalent to authenticy of me.
I had to recreate my flow and turn every con I had into a pro but when you’re steady trying to exceed and fulfill the status quo
It’s easy to get bent of out shape trying to please everyone at one time excluding yourself and limiting yourself back to just another Jane doe.
Jane Doe doesn’t sound so flattering to me though.
I couldn’t see myself falling short of my own expectations so when I did …
it was time to end my show
I began to feel like a freak, a nuisance, or a mutated version of me
All I could see is me living on edge trying to please but majority of the time I never asked myself twice did my actions please me.
I thought I was crazy that nobody notices that you never cater to yourself but always see you as a random nurturer.
I thought I was a nurturer until I realized I was malnourished.
I thought I was nurturing but I was selfish and self destructing.
I thought I was building character but I was deconstructing that little broken hearted girl from the inside out.
I know I'm not that same little girl.
I know that I am who I know I am.
And I know what I am NOT.
Crazy I am not , determined I remain.
As I remain full of light , nothing will detain my new flame.

ignore all possible concepts and possibilities ---
ignore Beethoven, the spider, the damnation of Faust ---
just make it, babe, make it:
a house  a car   a belly full of beans
pay your taxes
****
and if you can't ****
copulate.
make money but don't work too
hard --- make somebody else pay to
make it --- and
don't smoke too much but drink enough to
relax, and
stay off the streets
wipe your *** real good
use a lot of toilet paper
it's bad manners to let people know you **** or
could smell like it
if you weren't
careful

the lady has me temporarily off the bottle
and now the pecker stands up
better.
however, things change overnight--
instead of listening to Shostakovich and
Mozart through a smeared haze of smoke
the nights change, new
complexities:
we drive to Baskin-Robbins,
31 flavors:
Rocky Road, Bubble Gum, Apricot Ice, Strawberry
Cheesecake, Chocolate Mint...

we park outside and look at icecream
people
a very healthy and satisfied people,
nary a potential suicide in sight
(they probably even vote)
and I tell her
"what if the boys saw me go in there? suppose they
find out I'm going in for a walnut peach sundae?"
"come on, chicken," she laughs and we go in
and stand with the icecream people.
none of them are cursing or threatening
the clerks.
there seem to be no hangovers or
grievances.
I am alarmed at the placid and calm wave
that flows about. I feel like a ***** in a
beauty contest. we finally get our sundaes and
sit in the car and eat them.

I must admit they are quite good. a curious new
world. (all my friends tell me I am looking
better. "you're looking good, man, we thought you
were going to die there for a while...")
--those 4,500 dark nights, the jails, the
hospitals...

and later that night
there is use for the pecker, use for
love, and it is glorious,
long and true,
and afterwards we speak of easy things;
our heads by the open window with the moonlight
looking through, we sleep in each other's
arms.

the icecream people make me feel good,
inside and out.