Piano notes drift in the
rainy evening,
like sadness from a
clock.
You were the color
in my dreams.
The paint on my
canvas.

Look at
them gather
at the gallows.
That's entertainment.
Monkeys sell
popcorn, and do
tricks, dressed in
sailor suits.
You bought your
tickets,
Now enjoy the show.

The crowds get bigger.
Everyone loves a
good tragedy, except
the one being hanged.

Another lunatic trip to
the hospital.
Nine days, this
go around.
For the first two
days, I just pulled
the covers over my
head and pretended I
was back in the womb.
It was warm and safe.
As much as I
wanted to stay,
I knew it was time to
be reborn into this
strange world of
sick streets, and
broken dreams.

She worries about
everything,
real and imagined,
"what if this? What if that?"
I watched my
Mom
worry herself right
into the
grave one disastrous
December night.
My girlfriend doesn't care.
She wants me to
worry right along
with her.
And when I don't
she
gets angry.

My Dad said,
"They can **** us,
but they can't eat us."
I share this with her.
Nothing!
Just
worry, worry, worry.