Cut me into a nice new groove,
how are your socks?
how are your shoes?

You fall through thoughts as a lonely dove does.

Much like the rose that was not red
or the dog that never wants to be fed.

Finding anicent springs of hold land beauty.

These places succumb to a mind only so bold
take out my hands, they're yours to hold.

I think I may have dreamed of her the night before last
I forgot to write it down, all I remember is that we might
have been in the house that belonged to her, it was wooden
and orange in the interior, great Japanese beams of ancient
blessed wood, and was on a hill above a lake, maybe, and al-
though I was not consciously thinking about it, but noticing
the details as if it were a friend's house, near my home, and
I was there for tea in the afternoon, when the shadows begin
to stretch before bed, and her face in the orange glow of the
setting summer sun, just as sweet as the coffee that I could
have had, when at work she asked me to join her a few months
back.

On nights when I'm not awake
And the times during the day when I fall to dream
I tear off my skin and play alive
and laugh with people I never knew
do things I don't normally do
and conspire daring pacts with
people that walk by, people I never really say hi to
when I'm awake and out in the gray midday
wishing the world was mine and mine only
(And in the morning while I lie awake
I think to myself, if that day I finally find someone sweet
I may ask them to bash in my brains to mincemeat)

The sky’s a shade of lost gray and maybe lurid blue someday
Something sweet, so tell me what I want to hear
Leaving me to question whether I should stay or swim away
Or live life in this wonderful sweet gray
The times I actually don’t stare lowly at my feet or the cracks
Slender gray cheeks of astronauts tilt and question the same sea that cradles me
And different shades, some warm, some cool
And different ways of leaving and watching those who have left be dead
It's not quite appropriate to be living that way, in a sea that isn’t quite gray
The worst and greatest blessing is to never know
Something sweet, so tell me what I want to hear
Or leave me wondering if I should stay or swim away
Or live life in this wonderful sweet gray

the concept of you fills the room like a cloud, like
hot air in all the rooms in the house, even the atti
c and through the eaves into the evening, you ma
ke me shake, you swell around, make the air quiv
er and glimmer like the phone lines, you can go u
p and touch them, but they don't speak, and now,
all i am is a draft while you were a candle that ha
s since been extinguished and gone out.

Morning words that taste so sweet;
But your anticipation hides a hiss that won’t leave
And my attention will dwindle, too, like last night's sky's suicide
For this morning’s indifferent wanness.
Yesterday’s problems precipitate on the porcelain sink,
and I think,
while it pours outside:
What you’re doing is eating at the pillars, perhaps your intent
Might very well be testing me like the Ocean tests a new continent;
Your questions propel with good intention, but miss
And I drift between my own strange questions
Looking for solid ground in marshes of dissonant longevity.
I watch you in your corner of our motel room as it stretches away from me;
Your fractal world crumbles into embers like the end of your "bad habit”
That’s now mine too, and ever since I’ve been washing the red out of my T-shirt
I’ve been blue.

Morning words that taste so sweet;
But your anticipation hides a hiss that won’t leave
And my attention will dwindle, too, like stars committing suicide
Problems precipitate on the porcelain sink and I think while it pours outside:
What you’re doing is eating at the pillars, your intent
Might very well be testing me like the Ocean tests a new continent
Your questions propel with good intention, but miss with bad-rap
And I drift between them aimlessly making no sense of the roadmap
And where my home is between fun and love and longevity
I watch you in the corner of the motel room as it stretches away from me
Your world crumbles like the end of your "bad habit”
That’s now mine too, and ever since I’ve been washing the red out of my T-shirt
I’ve been blue.