Day 1: not so bad.
Day 2: my body moves without permission.
Day 3: nope.
Day 4: took the bait.
Day 1: massive headache.  
Spat the bait out.
Day 2: not too bad.
Day 3: the toilet seat is so cold.
Day 4: Icy hot doesn't work.
Day 1:  kids are cool.

And just like that, it's over -
like it didn't even happen.
Traded the rest of his life
for a half a gram - went out
noddin' like he was nappin'..
My heart cries for the family,
Aaron, I miss you, fam.
And, if I could, you know I'd
buy you back for that half a gram.

Just like that, gone forever..
Like he was never here,
a sudden change of weather
we often see this time of year.
My heart cries for your kid,
I'll never forget you, man.
Why men would rather ****
than build, I'll never understand..

Just like that, forgotten..
The girl had gotten sober
Bought some birthday
presents and ******
and just like that - its over.
My heart cries for your baby
Carrie's never coming back.
I wonder if she wore the
bracelet I gave her when
she faded into black.

Just like that, we're praying..
for God to heal our hurt..
a few words about his life and
then we chunked him in the dirt..
I tried to tell you, Bill David..
That girl would get you killed..
Look to God to do the healing
You just be the one who's healed.

Don't let the dirt of despair
dull your shine, little diamond.
God's been good to you, too.  
Who said it was over?  
Who told you it'd always
be like this?
Who said you're a toxic person?
And how do they know?  
They don't.  
Shake those expectations.
Dance in the rain.
Shine in the dirt.
Do you, diamond.

Drowning in the white
waters of his own rage,
He stared a vacant
stare that could never
give light - only drink it
like a barren desert
growing desperate
for a few drops of rain.

That kind of stare can
only look inward
toward the stinging
and distorted
memories -
never peering out into
the suger-coated  
sub-reality (the
monotonous practice
of model living) -
his vision obscured by
the traumatic scenes
of a nightmarish movie
playing in repetition -
bearing down on his
consciousness and
becoming all the more
vivid and consequential.

The contrast of her
soft-spokenness seems
to mock him - and so
he rages..

We're, every one,
just as afraid as the other
Afraid of each other
The only brave souls
are those who confess it
and are least compromised.

Somewhere in the sands of time,
I hear a faint and faithful cry -
the song of a wingless bird
singin' "love will never die".
But where has he gone now?
That candle in a hurricane.
The bird singing in the storm -
wings beating against the rain.
And what will he become
when his soul no longer sings?
When he makes a nest of thorns
and fills it up with shiny things.
-
He can't say he'll sing tomorrow -
Tomorrow might never come
And the only awful song
is a song that is never sung.

The wild wonderland
of believed dreams with
good outcomes resting
in the minds of poor kids -
patted down like
little mud cakes and shaped in
old pans on culled lumber porches.

Who's ever gonna fix that rail?
No one.

Kids are busy baking cakes
and the older folks couldn't
care less..

Only those in the middle
are blinded by conformity
and set on edge by competition..

But, in this light, who couldn't surrender their darkness
of cold competition to the light and warmth of these lads?

Who wouldn't make way
for such a thing to happen?

Little lights of
hope that will only fade
into the sunset of adulthood
in due time...

But not today.

Not for them.

They have cakes to bake.