She told me
I reminded her of LSD.
I always changed her world
but it was guaranteed that
I would leave.

Vivid visions of the past lurk me,
I’m walking on the avenues of once a quick man’s vision,
driving in car models a dead man thought
and voting with rights dead men and women fought—
for, we’re all living life through dead men’s visions—
books of laws and morals woven by dead men’s *****—
subconscious slaves to dead ways.
So ask me about “life” and I’ll reply,
*I’m still waiting to live like my master
for everyone that lives dies
but everyone that dies lives.

I ache for the pinch
of the coiled steel beneath
each finger tip
pressing down sloppy
thoughts and sheepish
wishes.
The polished red wood
sliding across my palms
each pluck sending out
the perfect tone to settle
qualms
and topple empires
while building up cardiac muscle
never mind the fumbles
caused by unuse and long nights
of abuse
But even if I had the strings
it wouldn't change a thing
not a thing