crisp thin air
summer swelter leaves
fall sweaters

All the boys in plume
Strutting up and down main street
the girls just giggle

Reading between lines
silly games played with our minds
translations muddied
thoughts now clearing, fogs lifting
Clearer thinking, crystal sight

It's symbiotic
I hate it when you **** me off
and I get to blow off, steaming
I love it when you get me off
gives the other, all new meaning

Still looking for perfect
Can’t find joy, no one worthy
That trail you walk, alone

i was taken so
happily lost in their green
wonder in your eyes

lost this thought before
can't recall when, but I'm sure
to write it once more

Man hates looking back
Refusing to see his errors
Repeat, rinse, Repeat

depleted seasons
as mulled vinegar wine
dulling the senses

Your softest truths
Ring louder then yelled lies
Both heard in your eyes

There's the gutter
I once called home sweet home
It's where I bled it out, screamed it out
told that evil spirit to get the F out
There's the gutter
I like to come by every now and then
reminds me to never come back that way again
not to feel the pain but touch it's evil vein
There's the gutter
It has still never let me down

what's too long to wait
I'll stand here forever, need be
to feel it once more

Love lifts
Love lows
Love light
Love lies
Love leaves
Love limps
Love learns
Love lives
Love loves love

from this mountain top
everything down below me
how peaceful it seems

my morning angel
your goodbye kisses linger
into afternoon

Passing affliction
Cold sweat, shallow breath, light head
Afflict me again

white haired regal judge
black robe upon slim shoulders
keen his eagle eyes

He bangs his head again
And again, no thought to think
I’d rather make a horse drink

Love is not hard to miss
when I see it in every place
I feel it when I am alone
Isolated with my thoughts
of all our times apart

beginning again
freshly started do-overs
new spring promises

Springs morning mist hides the many peaks
Under gods drapes to see the snow still remains
Winters last chance braces for warmer days

old mossy oak way
faithful refuge, tinned roof taps
herons on the stalk