Sea Caves (!לים)

Not one for exploring,

But there are riches

never seen, but no

one's ever gone that deep.

Or, maybe it's just me.

(I could never climb in that deep)

The tide is bound to overflow

Not even the gods can stop its rage.

And while the winds blow out from deep within

More fall deeper into the caves.

"I have been devoured!"

"I have seen the light!"

"Me encantaría volver a respirar!"

"Hay más que han caído en las cuevas!"

"Piden limosna cada día!"

"Están atrapados para siempre!"

And so I will swim away,

Or let the tide swallow me

and take me away to

a shore in another world,

Like Esteban, to be admired

again and again.

Somewhere further,

!לים

Repetition

A broken stone has rolled down this hill before.

Para ver

Solíamos manejar por la ciudad

para ver los luces en el invierno

y esperar que pudiéramos

andar una vez más por la calle

y sentarnos

y esperar hasta el sol volviera.

ditches

muddied & sloppied &

full of fresh rain water

now filled with the

dirty flesh of dead

bugs floating in the mud.

And pile in whatever you would like:

More rocks or grasshoppers or

Spit from your swollen throat.

Or gum from your tired teeth

Or loose hairs from your head.

I'll be ditchwading, wondering why

you're spitting in my face

or pouring rocks on my back

or spending time down here

with me in a ditch.

Bless Me, Ultima

"Her hand touched my forehead and her last words were, 'I bless you in the name of all that is good and strong and beautiful, Antonio. Always have the strength to live. Love life, and if despair enters your heart, look for me in the evenings when the wind is gentle and the owls sing in the hills. I shall be with you-'"

A wonderful, inspiring book.

Soul Sent to Sleep

Every day just gets harder and

I'm glad she told me that

She's got a thing for kids with

Addictions,

Because, about now, that's all I've fucking got.

Quiero morir si no pueda

verte cada día.

And every day goes on longer and

I wish the roads were a little more wet or

My car couldn't handle corners and then

the universe could just take things

Into its own hands.

If the tree I watch

every fucking day

split in half

and fell through the window

and separated my head

from my soul

then at least it was natural.

But my soul is already gone.

¿Adónde se ha ido?

Whenever I find it,

I swear to God,

I'll strangle it to death

For running away for so

Goddamn long.

But if you've got a thing

for a kid with no soul

and a new addiction

every night,

No te preocupes:

I'll be gone in the morning.

sorry

My breath

was colder than the air

and froze your tongue,

and now you're stuck,

and I apologize.

Buildings/Clouds/Lungs

But buildings are menacing in the right light of the right sky

And all I imagine anymore is

Someone falling out or off

Like the building wants to throw up and throw out anything

That moves or desecrates it with themselves.

And a break in the clouds

is often just someone

peeking through

checking in to make sure

you're not dead or

passed out bloody

to need to pick you up

and sweep you away.

Do my lungs remember what I put them through every night when I take the same route through the darkest parts of where I shouldn't be, just waiting for something new to pop out and turn me back the way I came from originally?

Lost

Walking under trees,

Spouting off something about how you believe

That God exists in every leaf

That blows through your flowing hair.

When you're wondering how on earth I could feel

Like nothing up above created anything

Or that there's no miracles in a blade of grass.

And that that branch that rubs on the window

Is nothing more than a nuisance,

And not some bigger part of a greater design

Of a failed world, losing its sustainability for life.

But we can walk a little further and
I'll let you tell me about how He puts the clouds

In just the right place

So that I can see myself in your eyes,

Because, anymore, that's all I'm looking for.

Our Father, Who Art In Heaven,

If anything more could go wrong,

Bring it on.

And force the weight onto my shoulders so that

I may push the rock up the hill just to see it

Roll back down to push it up again.

Politics

A country of privileges creates

A country of weak men and

A country of poor men.

Too late

Every picture I've taken turned out

to be the same stoic face staring hard

back to yours while you tried to find

something wrong in my smile or

whatever you would call whatever it

was that's been smeared across my

face for the last three years.

I always decide too late that I

should've just driven to the

fucking store and picked up the

cigarettes or maybe had one or

two more so that I could forget

that I'll be too fucking late to

get to you because as a coward

shivers in fear I shiver in the

cold air night while the wind just

keeps fucking howling past me

reminding me that it could be carrying

my smoke or something that makes

it worthwhile to be out in the road

somewhere near two-thirty.

I've driven enough lately to realize that I ended up at the same fucking place cada vez (cada vez). And something about anything that needs to be said past three a.m. can be said in the morning but I'd be willing to talk with you right now (o lo que sea). And how sad I realized I was in comparison to who you are and what it is you may have been or become, singularly disproving that I will never change myself but also proving that the same steps should have been climbed in my life already and that I've reached the top of some shortcut staircase where we're both right here at the top with a different view from different sides and what does it fucking matter if we can't see the same thing or different things together. And the key to life being that I've already let go of whatever it was I hadn't even stumbled upon yet, because with a future so wrongfully carved into stone, I learned to follow it anyway. Like if we could break from the path that whoever doesn't exist above has lain before us we could start our life new, running from the heavens with thunder and lightening crackling behind us as the trail turns to mud and blood and ash behind our very eyes. But when the thing that matters is that I didn't sink into the path myself, myself is the only one I've told. And with myself I can pull away just as easily as I was put together with some sort of cheap-sick-slick glue from the value bin. Just two pieces of me slopped and slapped together but one's missing insides and the other's lost its brother. Jump inside and we'll see what we can do, to be the missing link of what linked my body to my soul and made it fully inflated into the slouching mass you see slumping through the hallways every night, wondering, "Where does it go at night?" asking yourself, "¿Adónde él se va cada noche con si mismo?"

Like it mattered where a shadow fell when the Sun decided not to quit for a day.

Day after day

Measuring levels of blue,

Because we have accepted the sky

As an inevitability and so

No longer wait for it to crash down,

Day after day.

Clear

The sky looks fake today

and something strange

hangs above the trees like

the words y'spoke to me.

Dazed like haze floating in and out

of my lungs: A struggle.

Following rooftops over buildings over

any real trees you might find in a

godforsaken desert city.

"Again: a goal."

Feel like I could float right through it and watch as

all the miniscule little schoolkids run home,

bogged down by the heavy load the air keeps

pressing down on their tiny little heads.

But I wouldn't last long and would

fall just like Icarus: Get burnt up hard while

falling through the sky.

And if you promise to recognize my melted skin

and face, then I promise whatever I need to

just to give my self a place to

come back to.

'Cause I'll be back once I'm done

flying through the sickly open fake skies,

waiting for the shirt on my back to burn up

like a message from the heavens,

like, "Maybe, just for now, I'll put you down."

Fallin'

What it boils down to is how this sickly air flows back and forth while we keep on swimming through it. And I'm not sure how far you'll get with such weak arms and such weak spirits, but if you push a little harder, it'll be less embarrassing when you finally hit the ground.

'Cause we've been waiting so god damn long

To watch you fall from your high horse,

Your watch post watching and watching and watching.

Watch out; the teams have changed and

Watch out; you've fallen hard and

Watch out; 'cause pretty soon we'll be looking down on you just watching and waiting for you to hit hard and just split that round skull of yours to pieces in the dirt and have the ground take back what it had put forth first.

But with the haze, the view won't be nearly as clear as the empty sky we've gotten so used to peering through. So watch your back, but not too hard, because although you'll fall soon we'll be choking on too many fumes to be worrying about what it is that you may be up to.

To them

I'm no one.

Outside

"I was just another book on the shelf, nothing else."

-Titus Andronicus

A sea of people flowing from end to end down the widest darkest street you ever saw and I was probably just one of them walking along waiting for a leaf or buckeye ball to fall out and hit me on the head to wake me up from what I figured was probably another dream. But that never came and so I walked with the sea and waved like the sea and fell like the sea and crashed like the sea and whhhoooooshed like the sea and worried like the sea and seemed like the sea. But as I was crashing and waving and rolling around on the street I realized the depth of the other sea people and realized how far from the ground and then maybe how far from inside and then maybe from the heads. And then I looked in the eyes of the ones in the other sea going the other way wondering what might be in their eyes and not mine. And I wanted to walk with them to maybe see what is in my eyes or the eyes of my other seamates which is my eyes and my own self as a seamate. Then I saw their mouths and decided to not walk with them against myself because if the two seas clashed and mixed like the Indian and the Atlantic at the tip of Africa then when I kissed their mouths I'd be made contagious with their new germs and the things I don't want to say but would anyway. And then I looked into their chests because without looking down at mine me di cuenta de que their chests were wide open and I could see what you'd call the heart or the throbber beating at my face with its blood and noticed that not all were as the same as were. And then I looked in their eyes and their hearts beat in and screamed and poured out and before I knew it my eyes poured out. And what made us different made us the same. And then me di cuenta de que I wouldn't find anyone different and similar to be with. And then I realized that I already found me in a mirror and from then on would keep my mirror for when I got lonely and needed someone to talk to in my pocket to always have me there with me because the only love I could find that wasn't distant was for myself. But then I realized that I lost that love ago and threw out and broke the mirror and no longer wanted the shards in my pocket to remember who I was and hopefully broke free from me and met the one in the other sea who was lookin' back at me and my open chest and my hovering and mouth and eyes and saw what I saw and thought back. And then I waited again.

All I Need

Voy a fumar hasta mis pulmones se mueren.

Me voy a emborrachar hasta mi barriga se muere.

No voy a dormir hasta yo muero.

I don't need the fuckin' sleep,

or the health,

or the health.

And I figure,

Could talk all night,

leave more butts on the ground,

carve more messages in the sand.

But I'll drink to your health,

while I waste out mine,

y rezaré por ti,

hasta recibas lo que quieres.

I'm all about watching you get what it is that you need.

Y todo que yo necesito,

es la fuma y la bebida,

and life will come right on time.

Getting Lost on Some Lonely Streets

The air sparks hard tonight and

While I waited for some comfort of some sort

from the air hovering around me,

I realized I'd lost myself again.

(And you can blame the red eyes on the allergies)

"My car is a murder weapon.

My windshield is an axe,

Spilling the life of insects all over it."

I'm fucking disgusting.

I can get lost on any street you pick for me,

even if I drove it before.

The days are shit,

the nights are worse,

and the more I leave to look around,

the more lost I get.

And every time I get back,

It's a new place,

new town

new people

new name

new face.

Lost.

On some desolate dark street

watching the people stare back at me on benches

wondering what the gasping noises are

coming from my mouth

and why my body keeps

shaking and shuddering

and won't fucking stop

until you tell me to calm down,

and hold me while I calm down,

and please make everything better.

Just wave your hand and change

everything around me

like you used to do for me

any time

any place.

Fucking hold me and tell me

You'll be with me soon

because I can't fucking stand to

be alone for this long.

Wasting and Titus

Blame it on allergies,

or things stuck in my eyes,

like the countless bugs I've

been encountering practically

every time that I leave my room

for a smoke or a walk or a breath

of something outside.

My eyes are red from what I've been

watching happen as I drift between

consciences and different states in my

head. And I won't stop thinking about

my dreams. And my allergies are real

enough to make you think its just the

pests hanging in the air, waiting for me.

Because at least someone's waiting for me.

And I heard Titus sing to me,

"So I'm saying goodbye, and no, I won't forget to write. It's just been too long racing towards a yellow light, and I know that I say this every night, but I don't think I've ever been so tired of life."

And finding new places and wasting more gas

was supposed to help me find me in places I'd

enjoy more than empty trees and half-suns in

the skies but I'm already tired from not sleeping

each night and I've got to wonder just how long

Just how long it might be before something

finally comes.

Floating

Familiar songs start

like arriving home.

And a fresh breath of air.

Wind in grass in air float high

float high

float high.

Like bells ringing or birds singing

or rain clouds letting up.

Or just for today the

sun wanted to shine for

you.

Para tiiiiii.

Cold cold cold flows through some

window cracked open like you

forgot all along that I'd

jump on through and be finally

there in front of you

to be what you want me to.

Driving

Look at the sky,

lonely colors shaking lonely stars hiding a lonely moon,

lonely streets,

lonely lights,

lonely buildings,

lonely squares,

lonely eyes- starin' at

lonely eyes- starin' at

Bright signs telling me to drive,

and drive,

until the gas tank's dry,

and broke down on the side

of the road while I

watch the rest of the lights

pass by and by,

starin' at- lonely eyes,

staring back as they drive.

Gonna sit and watch all night while the sun cycles and moon cycles sync

And hope I'm not still there when I wake up.

Something new

Do fish dream of larger bodies of water?

"My life is dull and my body aches."

Ink spreads like a wildfire, lines running across the page like sparks in the brush.

"This blood in my mouth makes me hate how we both end up."

And swim and swim like you'll try to escape into something a little more warm, screaming, "!קר לי"

Or run and run like you'll try to duck down and watch the flames pass like something a little more cool like, "!חם לי"

You'll find a bigger ocean or some new trees some day.

Over time.

Was gonna say how the clouds looked angry,

or the sky made purple behind the rain,

but was too dark to get a picture, so I just believed in it

and watched as drops hit my eyes,

like drops hit the lake.

And I couldn't get a picture so

I figured I'd keep it to myself so

That you couldn't figure out how

it really looked,

in my eyes, at least.

Was gonna say how the streetlights go out

cada vez que yo los paso.

And though you wouldn't believe that it's my brainwaves,

you'd maybe believe that it happens.

But I don't try that anymore.

Lost the mystic's mind when those god damned drops

of acid rain fell into my eyes.

And made me realize a new picture of

the things hidden behind the clouds,

far up, past god, or whatever that thing built.

Out further than ex-Pluto where things freeze,

and makes you see a lot more clearly

how well everyone's off

and how sad everyone's off.

And so was gonna say that maybe you should be here

with me so that I can show you the purple acid rain

and when it blinds you, say sorry and watch what happens

when you change into me, slowly,

but surely,

but slowly.

Pasa lo que pasa

"but we carry the weight

wearily,

and so must rest

in the arms of love

at last,

must rest in the arms

of love."

-Allen Ginsberg, "Song"

Yo pasé un rato solo en una playa en California.

All by myself down there on the beach for a night

alone.

And what'd I find but lines in the sand,

etched in hard by the fall of the sun,

or the rise of some mysterious creature

hovering above the water like a new light

for the whole world to see.

And who would've known that I read what I needed to read,

Or saw what I needed to see,

and the words clung tight, like,

"Find another home."

Like, "Find someone again."

Like again,

again.

And I spent some time alone on a beach in California and saw that if I sat still long enough, among the rocks, people would start to think that I was one of them, and kids would jump on my feet, and parents would spit in my hair, and I'd be new, be a new rock just sitting on the beach, waiting for time to come and find me with the other salt-washed rocks, stretching out into the sickly dusk-reflective ocean, hearing the wind from the south and the water from Asia blow over my face, like they were supposed to, like was their paths.

And back to realizing, realizing that I was there with me

and just me

got me realizing that it was just me.

And no one to fall into except the ocean makes you think,

what happens when the ocean wants you for itself?

Who's there to pull you back and want you for them-self?

But there are enough buoys in the ocean,

enough lifeguard boats,

and during the day, enough lifeguards to pull me back.

So I'll bob around in the ocean all night,

as myself,

by myself,

until someone wants to pull me out.

Turns out

Turns out when the time zones changed, so did I.
And when I crossed the state,
the road fell away behind me.
And now think of all the people
stuck in their cars behind crumbling roads,
because no one wants to drive them.

And it turns out that its my fault,
and whatever and whatever and
whatever, but with enough deep breaths,
You can shrug it off your shoulders,
y'know,
Begin again.

And tracing footsteps back and forth each day,
And running familiar circles each day,
And thinking same thoughts each day.
But with enough deep breaths,
they'll all just fly,
fuckin' fly away.

And goddamn,
Turns out trees die if you give them enough time.
Turns out lights fall the same.
And it turns out that that's all that matters,
just to pull it together.

And I'm pulling it together,
And taking more deep breaths,
And probably living longer.
And I can forget about whatever I killed
behind me, and start wondering what I might kill
ahead of me.
Because the future's what matters, in the end.

Make Good Speed Alone

(scatterbrainedforthisone.disculpe)

.שלום
Did I tell you?
I'm finally leaving.
And all packed up and
All goodbyed and
Alright,
Alright.
(Probably happy, just hidin' it)
Because you have to be to be leaving a place like here.

But I spent too much time away already,
And from there, at night, you can see the world curve behind the pull of the moon over the waves. And the tide goes up and down like the puppet it is just pulled up and down up and down and you find that there's more beneath the water as it gets pulled up and down up and down.

And I'm leaving town like a business transaction.
There's always more to do,
More paperwork to fill,
More things to return
Before the deal is good.
(And what's gonna happen when it don't work out so good?)

Scratchin' those lotto tickets every night
Must stick that sound in your head like
"Crrch shshshshshshshshsh crrrshhhshshsh"
Blind luck, grasping at
Blind luck, grasping at
Nothin' much,
Not anymore.

But I make good speed alone,
And I figure that I'll make it in time,
And I figure I'll be alright ("We'll be alright.")

But I guess you have to promise me that
The whole trip I won't be alone.
And that on one of the stops, you'll be there
to say something to me so that I'll stop talking to myself
in languages no one else cares to
and no one else wants to.
Tell me you want to,
And the trip won't go by so slow.

But if it does,
and even if,
Then prometerme que you'll be here,
or there,
or where
you need to be.
Just be there.

And if I make good enough time,
I'll be back.
"And if I don't come back, I mean, if I get sidetracked, it's only 'cause I wanted to."
And I'll do what I can just to prove that to you.

Headin' out.

From a Plane

From a plane, over the mountains,
From a plane, the sun died.
From a plane, watched your lights turn on,
Like the flick of a switch changed anything, right?
From a plane the people were small
but as usual: the usual.
From a plane a bird hit the window like
squawk like
crash like
break glass hard like
hole like
pressure like
everyone sucked out like
through a straw.
From the ground they watched as hundreds of bodies fell to the ground and
From a plane, I watched as it went down.

Told me, "

Well, you know how it is now. And that things that happen are just happening, and pasa lo que pasa, and there's not much to do. But I know that eventually I'll see you, probably. I mean, you know how it is now. But I meant to say that, you know, you just have to wait. Remember, I said, 'Maybe we should talk about this another time...,' a better time. And I meant it. But I don't think it's come. And I think maybe too much has come in between then and now, and maybe the time even passed. But you were wrapped up in the things you were doing, and I wasn't much, but I was OK with it and things just turned out this way."

"But, you know, everything's shit, and I hope that things eventually work out for you. Because they should, right? Because they should. And, you know, everything is shit and there's nothing to do about it but get used to it because there's nothing else to do. What can you do but get used to it? But I think I might trace my path across the states and see what happens, you know? (I never thought I talked like this until I started thinking about what I was saying, you know what I mean?) And I hope if I trace some sort of shitty figurative path I'll find my way to somewhere else, you know. Somewhere worth coming back to. And I thought it was you, here, and then when I was wrong I shut down. But you should know how long you were the path back, the porch light, the last house- y'know.. where I needed to be."

"But everything will happen right, right? Because that's what happens. It always works out how it's supposed to, even if it doesn't feel right, because how else could it work out but the way that was set out in the ground. Like that path, there's a path there, and it may be further from me, but it's taking you somewhere better, right?"

"And I know you think you meant it, or maybe you meant it, and hopefully you really did, and hopefully- but afterwards it will come down to how everything since this point has gone to shit, even if everything was shit before, it's a downhill slide from every point. The ones worth remembering, at least, you know?"

"And from now on it's probably just best to not remember the remembering points, right? I mean, if all you're going to do with your life is remember then you're going to live a lot of blank years alone."

"And I never figured I'd live much else than that. But something will come along, like you said. A new path, y'know. It'll be shit like all the other paths except that one, but that one probably passed or got covered up by brush and the forest service won't cut it back anymore because I'm not supposed to go back down it anymore, but if I get used to it, then that's what I can look forward to, and low enough, low enough it'll be like everything is better than it is. From that low you can see the stars, and I guess that's why poverty makes people appreciate life, because from that low you can enjoy what's around you. Because you have to. So here I go, having to have to like I'll enjoy it while I have to, and I will because you tell me to, because that's what matters, right? That at least I'm listening? That I always am and always was and I hope you remember that when I come back down another path, maybe you can find a way to reach mine from yours because maybe a new me will be better for an old you and then your new you will find new me the same as old you finds old me. Grow apart, y'know. But that's OK, because here I go. But it won't be for long. But it'll be for long enough, y'know?"

Fly

And things explode
way up there
way up there.
It's too bad you don't
live on after you die.
-you were worth it.

But you can push through the clouds
And find peace in something you find
way up there
way up there.

Shoppin' for

Went shopping but
Forgot to buy food and now
I'm just livin' off what
Air decides to float on
In to my throat.

I'll take it as it is while
I watch the rest of what I've got
Burn down behind me like
Lot's wife:
Getting curious.

I'll be a pillar of salt while
You just stand and look as if
I were some piece of mangled art
Sitting in an empty museum.

And that's what I'll do
For the rest of my life, is
Watch while I let you take from me
Everything I'd been trying to-
Trying to-
Fuckin' trying to do.

And sit back helpless as
Everything around me falls like
More unstable pillars of salt that
You couldn't even build with
Your own hands.

Just blame it on me.

'Cause I'll sit there and take it like
A pillar of salt would, like
I always would, even if
I weren't stuck here for good.

More

Thought I'd maybe try and drift off;
But then again.
Alone gets tiring.
Going on two years
for the rest of my life.
"So wait up, I'm not sleeping alone again tonight. There's so much to dream about. There must be more to my life."

Time passes a lot more now that no one's there.
And all the different lights in the sky just
aren't as bright.
But enough.

Two years going on forever sure does drag
by like it would-
but not expected-
but not surprised.

One day I'll drift again.
Can't fuckin' get to me there.
Driftin' too.

To:

To: you,
Because it's the only way I know how.

To: the boy without a return address and the girl the same,
It's better this way, I guess.

To: the lights burnt out,
Should've quit earlier, apologies.

To: them, again,
But if it doesn't happen the way it should

To: them, again,
Things could get thrown in front of your feet,
make you trip

To: them, again,
Won't be there to pick you up again, I guess.

To: whomever,

Getting Dimmer

We're all just pairs of headlights on the highway
Waiting to see more.
They said the battery couldn't die
while the car was running,
but we proved 'em wrong.
And we hit something hard with our pair of headlights,
running across the road.
And we shed a tear while we pulled the carcass
off to the side.
And maybe if they made them just a little brighter,

But they don't.
And we keep relying on the light of the passing cars
to tell us if anything is up ahead
because our lights are too dim,
getting dimmer.

Can't fucking trust that the road is still in tact
right up around that corner;
could be our last.

But we'll fucking try it,
whether it's there or not.
Whether we can see or not.
Whether they see us coming or not.
It won't fucking matter once we just
turn the fucking wheel.

Loose Ends

Pack
Packin' up.
Leave.
Movin' on.
Tape tape,
Tapin' up loose lids,
Closin' up more boxes,
Storin' you there for later.
Hope.
Hopin' maybe I'll come back,
Maybe,
When things are a little less-
A little less like this.
Aunque, es posible que
yo no vaya a volver.
Not like this.
Cambiar.
Gonna change and change,
Make change with strangers.
But soon I'll hope,
and hope and hope,
That I'll come back,
But not like this.

Danc'n'

Trees dancing in the
cold quiet wind in the
little wet drops past the
dark windows
tip tap roots tap beats tap-
one-two-three-one-stop
through wind
all night.

Dyin' Tongues

People used to talk talk talk,
Like that.
"Ni ne paroladi."
Nothin' more sad than a dead language.

"Notres Langues Nous Trompent"
Don't mean what we goddam say.
But they used to talk like we used to
talk.
¡Dime la verdad jodido!

But we don't talk like that no more
(NO MORE!)
And there's a reason
(HAY! HAY!)

Let's overstep our bounds,
Find a way to say something new.
Yo quería decirte..
Meant to say a lot more than

But even as we speak,
We deceive.
Languages died because they gave up.
Couldn't keep it up.
Wouldn't keep it up.

Ellos se dieron cuenta de que sus lenguas no podían mentir más.
Que ellos no podían comprender sus propias palabras.
That they didn't have enough time to cover it up.

And they gave up.

Hasta

I hope the look I gave you ruined your day.
Never close your fucking eyes.
We'll hunt you down
And pull out every fucking hair
one by one
Hasta te des cuenta de lo que tú has hecho.

-

It's always about someone else.
(It's always about you)

Blow Away

Dreams plant false fuckin' hope.
Woke up thinking I was actually holding your hand,
That you actually got back safe,
returned home.

Hacking away at forsythia branches,
Lunging over to try and re-
root themselves in the ground like
claws.
Sap freezing in the stems.
Dead.

Buckeye branches blowing hard,
blowing leaves.
"Oh, my darling. The leaves!"
Fly away like a cloud,
a dream,
lost like holding my hand,
Dream planting seeds like
stems on weeds,
false fuckin' hope planted deep.

Blow! Blow! Blow!
Wind throwing horse chestnuts in the air
like a spiky ball,
swing:miss;
Swing and miss.
Swingedandmissedagain
Hopin' again to see you again,
'll dream again tonight.

And, lo,

And you know how it is,
Same storyline written time and time,
10 people thinking the same thing,
that they're alone.

"And, lo, it was waste and void"
"תוהו ובוהו"
Chaos.

To the point where you jump every time the house creaks,
Or that you just need one more drink.
Makin' conversations with the sky and the
Clouds, because they've got more interesting
Things to say

Than a real
anyone.

Watching the ceiling fan until it stops,
because they each have the other,
one another
one another
each other.

Dancin' down the lines of the interstate hoping to see a big
crash.
Trucks come head on-
Deer fall head down.
Cycle turns, repeats.

Me encantaría correr,
Salir,
Dejarte aquí.

Just 4 more weeks.
Walking down a little more crowded streets
With places to go
and faces to meet
to leave you here
to rot, weep, hope
to leave.
Yo voy a despedirte.

And, lo, se me ha perdido mi oportunidad.

Until then,

Now on

Writin' in past tense from now-
Streets got too dark, I guess.
pushover- everything was yours anyway.
Problems lie in problems; lies from problems
spur more problems- lies.
Lying got the b-etter/est of me,
Y, a partir de ahora, estoy escribiendo en el tiempo pasado.