For years I've been trying to write
something that would cause the earth to shake--
maybe even slightly tip it off its axis.
Not because it possesses any eloquent grandeur
with words like "cataclysm" or "surreptitious"
nor due to any celeb-ritory status
that may befall my unkempt and ghostly pale person.

                      I just want people to think!

From the moment most of us
are pushed from our mother's dark, watery womb
it's like we're given a hardhat and a pick,
then told to find some gold in the mine
because if you want to keep working in the mine
you have to pay
and then as we try to explain that we're uneducated about mining
because we were just birthed we are told not to worry
because there are teachers who will educate us about the mine
and every so many days we're tested on what we learned about the mine
all the while being told to forget not about the gold in the mine
and sometimes we get a little tired or bored of looking for gold
so we're given a book to read about some guy named Mr. Brahmallah Siddhartahweh Christ
along with a few cigarettes, beer and lunch meat to relax
for a few minutes before it's time to get back to work to look for gold in the mine
to pay to look for gold in the mine
and lord help you if you can't pay to work in the mine because you need to work in the mine
to work in the mine.

                                                      Confused?­ That's the point...
Now, the metaphor above is a crude illustration
of what I'm talking about,
but I have confidence you understand what's gnawing at me,
AND what should be at you too.

                     Where is there time to think??

Even in scientific and philosophical occupations
there isn't much thinking these days.
Many take science as law
the same way extreme, right wingers from any religion
take their "religious doctrine" as law.
Our politics, technology and even reading is polluted
with derision and division into different schools of thought
from a Conservative Team Edward Apple supporting Griffendor Christian
to a Liberal Hufflepuff PC using Team Jacob Buddhist.
Now I understand why all these new agers
keep referencing The Matrix.

                           WHAT IS REAL!?
That must be a decent explanation as why people go insane;
suffocating on all the weighty labels
forcefully pinned to their soul.

And yet...
more people, like me,
are desperately clawing away at these labels,
attempting to find a little fresh air,
perhaps filled with the smell of paint,
graphite, charcoal, clay, **** and natural body pheromones
while sounds of music, chanting, cheers, sobbing, silence, giggling and *******
echo in the breathing room
as we feel the grass beneath our feet, wind matriculating through our hair, another warm and loving body embracing ours with cool water trickling down our backs...
People like me
wishing to be metaphorically, figuratively, theologically and psychologically digambara  
subconsciously evolving from sadhu to avadhuta
          preaching anekantavada
           while simultaneously revealing it all stems from ONE!

But...
many of us are caught in a dilemma best expressed by E.B. White:

[Arising] in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world, [making] it hard to plan the day.

These days, to the masses working in the mine,
if you're trying to improve the world you're a kook or a traitor,
just ask the SnowMannings.
If you try enjoying the world you're labeled lazy.
We all just want to be       FREE!!

Of course, Bill Hicks once said,
If you think you're free, trying going somewhere without ******* money.  

And when you THINK about that,
you start to get confused, right?
Maybe your head starts to hurt, right?
Because when you THINK about that,
and all the supposed enlightened people
from Siddhārtha Gautama who resigned from his royal trappings
to Yeshua HaNotzri who renounced material possessions with a needle
while the passive warrior Mahatma Gandhi thought western civilization a good idea.

Why are most children discouraged from being artists, farmers and the next far out thinkers?
Because      there’s        no          money        in         ­ it!  
Again, we’re back in the mine looking for gold.
But what would happen if you stopped?
What would happen if you got in the mine cart and said “**** it,”
then went careening down the shaft,
whirling and twirling faster and faster enjoying the ride!

But now I’m positioned in another quandary;
                       SOLUTIONS!  

While people like myself may have a few ideas
I think they are impossible to share at the moment
Because the majority of the population is too lazy
and complacent to do anything.
First we need to awaken!
First we have to get mad like Howard Beale!
We have to collectively reject the current frequency
and do like Tim Leary where we “turn on, tune in and drop out.”

Ok,
Let’s take five,
maybe more.
And when we reunite
let’s hash out some solutions,
**** out what does and doesn’t work.

Ben stands deliberately imposing,
his arms crossed and his stern face
reminding us all we’re x minutes late.

We are each a cell.
Circulating the city’s veins
by foot, tyre and train.

The city doesn’t die, but it does grow old.
And when its veins tire from carrying its load
necessary roadworks interrupt its flow;

Like open wounds. Each yellow hardhat
a fingernail on the invisible hand
of an omnipotent surgeon.

There isn't a girl in the world
without an incurable,
everything but unlovable,
psychotic or neurotic,
unique, personality trait.
I prithee, Lord, my soul to take.

Maybe I shouldn't mention it here:
But supposedly you have red hair.
I dunno though, a rumor maybe only.
I do know the thought makes me crazy,
and there's other colors there.
I know a strong urge to find you out slowly,
to see you undone in some solid morning.

I bet you see as little me as I hear you talking,
but I guess you can't know an intention,
any well-rounded notion goes flat.
in the absence of presence
Have to brave it with hardon and hardhat
'cause what brings things together's tension.

In the wain of the week,
we both get to drink.
Then dreamless sleep?
Or so I would like,
to pass heedlessly the night.
Or as I now imagine yours,
Scandinavian shores,
I don't know which I like more.

You visit me at work.
I kiss you hello without
My workwear staining your

Outfit. You put on hardhat
And steel tipped boots
And follow through

Corridors of neatly demolished
Offices prepared for
Rebuilding.

This is my life during the
Everydays. These rough walls
Are my home away from our

Homes. Now you have a face
To the name of my Work.
I think of us. How

Demolition hurts. How
The clean up is hard, ***** labour.
We have a few ghosts left from

Previous days. Here, take gloves
And a shovel. I'll help you carry.
Then I'll help you rebuild.

You want to
Mend my heart;
With what? Staples?
It's more than
Ten sheets thick
I don't care
How industrial you go,
And I laugh
At your staple gun
And even your nail gun,
Put away the duct tape
It'll just slide right off,
Oh; I see,
You brought plenty
Of Krazy glue,
Are you kidding me?
You might as well
Use fly paper,
None of this will do,
No siree, Bob
You can't fix my heart
And you sure as hell
Can't build me a new one,
No one with a hardhat
Nor white coats or stethoscopes
Can undo what she broke,
Only she is the remedy
Only she is the cure,
And my local drugstore
Doesn't carry her
Not even in generic,
So as far as I can tell
I'm stuck with this malady
Most inconvenient tragedy...
APAD13 - 112 © okpoet

i've said this once before, and i'll say it again: i don't buy into dreams, i find them a bit ******, b-movie versions of reality, but sometimes, just sometimes, just before i tap the snooze honey and talk myself into: wake up early, wake up early, wake up early, tomorrow it's going to be california sunny (which it now is), i get a dream, and not some *******-riddling dream, a dream where i am lying next to a staircase and reciting poetry - there was a yesterday? - and i can clearly remember one line from the poem:

  the best verse i ever composed,
  was the verse i spoke -
     and never bothered to write down -
the poetry that belongs solely to ανέμοί -
the deity of the winds,
and of souls -
     of those who reside a tier above
hades, in his ***** - anemoi -
   and yes, diacritical entry points
for the english reside with i and j -
as is worth noting:
   there's a buddhist maxim of concern
with respect to the modern greeks
(let me keep you up to date) -
that famed mirror of *beryl -
   stop polishing the ****** mirror,
you will not see much clearer,
stop polishing that ****** mirror,
wash your face instead, slap it even,
punch it till you bruise your knuckles -
by polishing that mirror too much,
you'll end up as the madman
xerxes of persia, demanding the sea
an allegiance and sub. obedience by
whipping it! we're not talking culinary
inventions of whipping cream,
or heating milk for a cappuccino froth!
if the english are going to be this *******
lazy with their abstinence of applying
diacritical indicators to ease the pain
of dyslexics with pseudo-chinese
  clarifying syllables - why should you?
you? the greeks, why spoil the beauty
of the already ready alpha-beta -
    you're perfecting something that's already
perfect -
        look at the trojan eve - look toward
the roman adam -
stark ****** naked; the greeks seem
to be donning five pairs of socks,
two pairs of trousers, six shirts, seven
pairs of underwear, gloves, and a burqa
to top it all off!
**** it, let's do what the english have
done: return to nature, embracing naturalism,
nudism, whatever the hell you want
to call this nightmare.

as any book review inquires -
  a book there is, how language began,
by a fella who learned some amazonian
language, a daniel everett -
who claims counter-claims vs. chomsky
and pinker -
  who says - citation, please!
he maintains that mental disorders do
not support the notion of a language *****,
for (he argues) there are no language-specific
disorders...
  
          yup... apart from dyslexia,
i guess that means: you can't count from 0
to 100, or give me a 3 x 4 answer,
nothing language specific about that.

ah blimmin' heck, i can't believe that i turn
into this jeckyll ******* when i had two
sharpshooters -
    well... **** happens.

then comes a video including douglas murray,
sometimes you need a pompous english
*** to speak a little -
   jaw-dropping moments of perfected
sophistry -
         which the english are only capable
of, which they invoked by inventing
the american / australian accents -
covert mechanisms -
   don't invite diacritical distinctions
(which, by the way, pivot on the chinese
having not letters, but syllables -
hence the mongols in crimea,
   hence the mongols tickling cracow,
as the myth of the trumpeter goes
in the hejnał mariacki - heynow -
   st. mary's trumpet call) -
shim shiminy shiminy shim shoom
         ask for favours of off a broom...
   tipsy turvy -
        and what do you call a sikh on a construction
site? sinjit you 'av a brick on yir turban;
never feels right, him with a turban,
me with a hardhat, i'm guessing he's
praying that if a brick falls,
     it will bounce right off the cushion.

there was something else...
ah! the other type of intellectual, the quirky one,
i.e. david graeter talking about
money, and how adam smith was wrong
in speculation, and how you don't
find the most primitive societies engaging
in 1 x cow = 40 x chicken...
    i still don't understand why there is
haggling in marrakech bazaars -
    or how 1 x cow ≠ 40 x chicken
  but 40 x chicken + a wife for my son...
intellectual pomp vs. intellectual quirk -
can't decide -
         and money is a fascinating concept,
nietzsche was nearing the prospect,
but the much anticipated "transvaluation
of all values": well... to be honest?
   that's just a one word book: money...
but here comes the biblical fiasco -
          oculus namque oculus -
  auge für ein auge -
        simply, eye for an eye -
which bewilders me, given usury -
     interest rates, the supposed "pricelessness"
of certain artworks...
        it's way past jurisprudence -
    that meaning has morphed into
a banality, nay, an abomination of economic
ethics...
          the phrase no longer applies so much
to a jurisprudence regard of affairs -
   the term has become more and more
economical.

she looked worn out and wrinkly.

her date in comparison was wearing a beige suit, but under the dusk light he looked like he was the same color as the building paint. he could almost pass as presentable.

he was a business graduate, and he recently had some sort of corporate deal that would grant him some sort of something.

she didn't care for it at all, whatever happened with him and such.
all he is to her was some old college friend of a friend, who happened to approach her a few weeks back.

it had been a while since she had talked to anyone from her old school, and she was almost bewildered that chuck asked to take her to dinner. she couldn't refuse; despite of what she thinks of him, or what he would think of her, she was not one to refuse activity.

all she is expecting now is company, and a good talk and a good dinner. she expects that from him, but not from herself.

taking her seat, she felt a bit lightheaded.

the restaurant was glamourous. it looked liked the insides of a department store furniture section. hardwood beams and hardwood posts and matte black stools with velvet cushions. the lights were incandescent; the type of light she loved, that reminded her of four o'clock sunshine and reflections upon amber fall leaves.

𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, she pondered. her mind began to wander.

"𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆
𝒎𝒂𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒎𝒏 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕...--

"Hey, are you alright?"

she was staring at the lightbulbs. she was startled

"Oh, sorry. Long day. Can we have some water?"

they gestured to the waiter. chuck had the flair of a high class yuppie. all around her were upper middle class couples and well dressed demoiselles drinking brightly colored cocktails. she felt small.

the waiter gave them a pitcher of cucumber water and their menus.

𝘦𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘤𝘶𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥.

"Order anything you'd like" said chuck. "I'm not afraid to spend tonight."

"Are you sure? We can split this later, I got paid and all-"

"Please, it'd be rude of me to make you pay. Especially now."

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯?

she looked at the menu. it had all sorts of cuisines, european and exotic. she could order something from spain and eat her way through the mediterranean and the alps and end up eating desert from japan.

𝘪 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵

she hadn't eaten for hours. shame went out of the window.

"I'll have the fillet. And the mushroom soup. And the swordfish. And this. And this... how do you say this? Yeah that..."

chuck was stone faced. he ordered the same steak. he then asked about the wine selection. the waiter asked her the same.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I don't drink. Maybe the iced tea."

the waiter went off with their menus.

"You don't drink? I thought in college you were a connoisseur of sorts." chuck asked.

"I don't drink now. College was ancient history."

"It's been a while, huh. Do you still talk to the other guys? Your old dorm mates? Mel?"

she shuddered at the thought of mel. she hadn't even thought of that name for years.

"No, I haven't talked to them. I barely talk to anyone these days, other than work."

"Oh, okay."

their appetizers arrived. a basket of italian bread was on the side; she immediately went for a piece.

"I've been working with my old mates." said chuck. "We were part of a merger of our company and that really was a stepping stone for us-"

"Yeah, yeah, mhm." she wasn't paying any attention. she was busy buttering her bread stick.

"And that gave me a lot of opportunities and stuff. I got a new house, new car, first class on business trips..."

chuck went on clamoring about his mcmansion and second hand ferrari. it went on for a few minutes.

"Yeah, that's great." she mumbled, with bread in her mouth.

she went for the last two pieces of foccacia on the basket.

"Aren't you going to try the bread?" she asked. whether it was out of shame or politeness she did not know.

"No. You're emptying it anyways. Don't fill up."

she looked up and saw chuck with an expression of mild annoyance. she sat straight and offered him a bread stick.

"It's fine." chuck went to have a sip of his wine. "How about you, what have you been up to these days?"

somehow, she didn't expect to be asked that.

"I'm doing good. Stable office job."

"Yeah. Mhm."

there is a silence within the hubbub of diners. the bread she was eating tasted like it suddenly turned cold.

𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺.

"Soooo..." she mumbled. "The food here good?"

"You must be hungry." chuck tensed.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I was just tired the entire day and I didn't get to eat lunch..."

"Don't apologize. This is a dinner. We're here to eat."

"Yeah, and to get together."

"Yes."

𝘺𝘦𝘱, 𝘯𝘰, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘱. 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦.

"You did order quite a lot." chuck finished his wine.

"We'll share."

"It's fine. I'm trying to reduce, actually. Been working out and all."

"Oh, are you? Back in college you were quite big."

"...yes. Yes I was."

𝘪 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.

"Anyways..."

"Oh, excuse me." chuck had a phone call.

she looked around. everyone looked like they were enjoying themselves. she could see herself in one of the bar mirrors, with a pallid expression and subpar hair. she looked at chuck. he looked busy and executive. she could not deny that he looked well and good, but in her eyes she still sees a plump frat boy with badly oiled hair and spots painted with acne cream.

chuck's call ended as their order arrived. as it was all set she immediately started on her mushroom soup.

"Enjoy." chuck had another glass of wine.

she ate quickly. she ate her soup before it cooled down and ate her steak before it lost all of its red. she topped her italian swordfish with an orange mash potato and ate it with her salad. she downed three cups of iced tea and ordered another pitcher of it.

chuck ate his steak quietly, sipping his wine occasionally.

"You really are hungry." chuck finished his plate.

"Mhm, yes I am." she said, while admiring a piece of arugula.

chuck stared at her. she kept eating. this went on for several minutes.

"You know, I didn't expect this night to be like this." chuck leaned back.

that set her aback. she looked to see chuck looking slightly displeased.

"What do you mean?"

"Look, I have to leave in about thirty or forty five minutes. My boss needs me. Can we check out early?"

"Oh, yes, of course." she dropped her fork. chuck called for the waiter.

her lightheadedness returned. the food did not help

"What did you mean you didn't expect the night to be like this?" she asked.

"Oh, it's nothing."

"No, come on, please. I'd like to know what you mean."

chuck swirled his wine around. "It's just that it's been a while, and I thought-" chuck paused for a moment. he took a sip.

"I thought you'd be different. I mean I don't mean different but you're different in a way I didn't expect."

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵. "I don't get it."

"No, I mean- you're not whom I expected. You know, I thought you'd be that old talk from college, you know-"

she was beginning to get it. "Did you talk to Geo before?"

"Yeah, I did." he finished his wine. the bottle had two more inches left.

that ruined it for her.

"I remember you being cheerful and chatty back then." said chuck. "You know, back in the old days, you were the girl who everyone looked up to, loud scholar and activist and all. Geo and your dorm mates had a lot to say about you."

𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥.

"And they always say, 'you were a mean drunk, you always wanted to talk, always had something to talk about.' Nothing that happened in your day was uninteresting for you, they say."

she pushed her plate away. "Well it's been a while, Chuck. It's not college anymore. Not that I agree with you, just- ugh, I dont know..."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I didn't mean to ruin this date."

"Oh, yeah. It's a date." she feels like she needs to run away.

"But I hope you're doing well. I hope you enjoyed the food, at least."

"Okay." she said.

they sat in silence for a minute. chuck's eyes were still at her. she checked her phone. no charge.

the waiter came and went with the bill. they sat in silence as chuck finished the bottle of wine. she felt the need to say something.

"You know... I saw a weird hat earlier." she blurted.

"Hm?"

"It was round, and made of plastic. It was like a bowl..."

"You mean a hardhat?"

𝘰𝘩, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦... "Yeah, something like that."

more silence. it was beginning to turn unbearable.

she had to think of more things to say. she looked around, looked at chuck. she remembered. "What's in the bag?" she had to ask.

"Oh, nothing. Just my stuff." he raised it up. it looked like a fresh shopping bag.

𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵. 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘨...

"Anyways, I have to go." chuck stood. it was barely thirty minutes

"Oh, I'll come with you." she stood and went. it is raining outside.

his car was parked in the back, they had to run to the shade.

"Can I have a ride?" she asked, worriedly.

"No, I'm sorry, I have to go." chuck went and left on his rip off supercar. she was left on the sidewalk, in the pouring rain.

...

she arrived home, soaking.

she went straight to the bathroom. the rain was cold on her head, and gave her shivers. the lightheadedness turned into a headache.

she kneeled on the can. she threw up steak, and swordfish, and iced tea.

she took off all of her clothes and dried herself. she went to her living room and laid down on the carpet.

𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵, she thought. 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵.

she sat and took her pen from the clothes bin. she opened her notebook.

"𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔
𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔...

𝘨𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘪𝘵. 𝘨𝘰𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯.

she ripped the page off and wrote on a new one.

"𝒄𝒉𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒌.

𝒈𝒆𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐

𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒕."

she closed her notebook. she stared at the ceiling once more.

𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘩𝘶𝘩. 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘥.

she closed her eyes and slept.

Written in 2014
(Dedicated to the memory of my Daddy, Dan A. Hacker, Jr.)
The heartbeat grows before we ever arrive;
Finally, the tires crunch on the briny soil as we pull in.
Daddy walks around and opens the door for me;
He is wearing his sliver aluminum hardhat;
I slide down the seat and clumsily out of the truck.
The heartbeat is overwhelming now,
Too loud for a human voice,
Provided anyone was inclined to speak;
Daddy is already checking gauges.
The smell of shell and oil and salt and gas
Blend into the cologne, it is the scent of my daddy.

I'm ****, confused and I don't know what to say
Your **** in my head every single day
I'm not good with emotion but you muddled them in my head
Now with my thoughts all I feel is dread
Forgetting about you? No I cant do that
Hit to hard by love and I wasn't wearing a hardhat
I will forget one day, hopefully that's soon
Tomorrow? Next week? Anytime in a blue moon?

Hothouse has no bed
Bare glass and empty bar
Haunted room for two
Old and lonely ghost
Vital flowers dead
Wilted heart and rose
The color of dry blood

Lonely light bulb naked
Just hanging by a hair
Put the shadows on the shade
Wallflowers standing bare
And whitewash on the face
Hardhat with a headlamp
Bright and diamond eye
Flick the instant switch

Never go out at night
Don’t live to see the stars
Seated at the dark bar
We’re locked indoors for life
Those who come to visit
Stay lonely forever