The television says that there is, "no signal".
I will believe it this one time,
as I doze off off on the hardwood floor.
There is a bed in the next room,
through the French doors.
However,
I can see the picture of James Dean and Natalie Wood from here.
Both of them from good families...
Tonight, I'll be a rebel.
Listen to the upstairs neighbors dog
run around
for freedom.
If you put your ear to a seashell you can hear the ocean,
if you put your ear to the hardwood floor you can hear the shadows
gaining courage.
They're waiting for the right time.
I put a towel at the bottom of the door.
It keeps out the cold air and
let's the neighbors know I want nothing to do with them.
I am withdrawn.
Destined to live on this floor,
seeing all the spots I missed sweeping today.
Dreaming of locked doors and too-early mornings.
The fan spins
singing a song of praise.
Glory,
glory,
I am saved.

There is war.
There is fear.
There is hunger.
There is heartbreak.
There is anguish.
There is sadness.
There is death.
There is a change in the Dollar Menu at McDonalds.

It is far enough away to
not dream about it.
However,
I am locked in this box and
insanity is setting in.
Watching the days paint
tainted ideas all over my prison.
Hidden from humanity,
I can only hope for a dream.
It will never come back to me,
no matter how hard I try.

How may I help you sir?
I am working on my customer service.
This is my new home.
Surrounded by thoughts and hard steel.
Would you like a tour?
Do you really have to go?
Okay than.

I am like a bull in a china shop.
Crashing into the walls and causing destruction.
Laughing all the while.
No one deserves to see me.
In a pile of broken glass and shelving.
Red,
blue,
yellow,
hatred.

The box has a slit in it.
I watch a curtain,
floral print and torn,
flow outside a window.
The building is falling down.
A testament to this area.
It knows what freedom is.
If these red bricks could tell their tale.
It would put everyone to sleep.

I will sleep tonight in my box.
Wishing the world away,
hoping for the axis to re-direct.
Saving my screams for a different day.
What will tomorrow bring?
Hours,
minutes,
seconds.
A countdown to the...
Let's count backwards.

If I threw an apple into a well,
would it splash or float?
The apple will never forget.

I have so much to do,
but I wont do any of it.
I'll keep the words to myself.
Forgive all and
fade into nightmares.
Don't be afraid.
The end has ended.

I can see the snake slithering,
hissing at my feet.
Will it bite me?
Hopefully.

I can watch the stars
form patterns,
while laying on my stomach.
The sky's reflection is best seen,
while staring at the ground.
The Earth is causing my head to swirl.

I fear the day
the snake slithers through the core,
discovering all the World's secrets.
It is always watching,
waiting,
for the right time to strike.

Once,
I fell into a well and
nearly drowned.
My father lowered in a rope to pull me out.
It slithered down the hard,
cold,
rocky side.
I never wanted to leave the well.
The water kept it's promise.
I promised to one day return.

I can hear the hissing of the snake.
Waiting for the right time to strike.
One bite and
the stars will fall to Earth.
They will scorch the prairie and
blind the poor.
We are not used to seeing hope.

I hope that you will forgive me for my lack of understanding.
The cold-blooded killers are hiding in the shadows.
Time is ticking
through the ocean.
Forgive me for being hopeful.
The sky will auction off it's wonders.

And still,
our buildings will crumble,
the blind will hear,
the deaf will see,
and I will still be here...
Listening to the snake slither through my world,
trying to catch the wind.

One day,
I'll scrub to the bite.

Kneeling in the hallway,
in front of the Men's bathroom.
I hope no one comes out as I pray.
Please,
do not let my sins catch up with me.
Not now.
Never.
I can hear the church bells
ringing in my ears.
The path is laid out.
My choice is to have three crucifixes on my night stand,
use my finger to paint them in the soot on my car.
This will be my protection.

Running through these dark halls,
being chased by bulls and
my own thoughts.
I'm more afraid of the bulls.
My thoughts are dull and focus on
rocket science and The Green Arrow.
That might be a lie.
I am no scientist.
The arrow flies through this thick air.
I am choking on the pollution of others.
Air so dense,
it makes the weeds ashamed.
They are pushed off of their pedestal.
What happens if I fall?
Left to die in this dark hall.
Crawling towards freedom,
while the hall runs away from my memories.
The door grows larger,
encompassing the wall.
The door handle is made of solid brass,
too heavy to turn.
A knocking fills the hall with thunderous applause.
Then,
all is white,
then black.
I can smell the subtle hint of perfume and
feel the wind on my face.
It's comforting to know
that this is how I will die.