Call me crazy if I ever did notice
And what a shame to have said
Though entirely independent it
Not missing too many ingredients
Once again it’s turned around
So I bid you adieu again
I don’t want a perfect you.
I don’t want an imagination
Resting on commercialized ideals
And mis-spent laments.
I want your messiness and chaos
And moments that urk me,
And crazy eyes and silent times
And hugs that will never end
Because forever is a time
I will be left thinking of you.
And just maybe,
If I count my lucky stars enough,
I will be right there
Next to you,
Winding my clock backwards
Elongating time to expand
These moments that make up you.
It’s no longer a crazy game
Of hand feeding hand.
Lust is not lost and
Games never end.
But look, it’s midnight.
My eyes have become swollen
With misery and trying,
And I’m loosing the edges
Of my bitter plan
I never hoped for you,
I never crossed my fingers
And bled questions into my
Well worn Tarot cards.
Here I was lost.
No. Here I wasn’t lost,
But it was here that
I began to remember
Who had soiled these sheets
With kindness and piss.
I cannot discover pleasure
Lurking behind bass cabinets.
I cannot look any longer
Into the abyss of your eyes.
You may think to yourself: “Here is a crazy old lady wandering through the birds
Feeding them like a cuckoo, a lady who’s gone off her rocker.”
Which may and alrighty be correct about myself
But alas! Do you not see the simple joys this can bring to life
Have you never held a poor animal in your hand and stared deep into its eyes?
A moment betwixt, no matter whom the beings, is the fragile state of my mind
I do not have the moments some of you may still have
I have born all my children, raised them as a good woman should
My own two hands most days worked raw to the bone
Scrubbing and toiling to send them off fed and clean
To get a better life than I could ever have dreamt about
And I, the lone patron of this empty house have nothing left to do
Save care for my own mind, my own sanity
Hence my pigeons. My bag of feed I carry endlessly around the squares
Making my home there home, sharing my soul with their souls
Until my children come back home
Until my memory remains, begone.
Frothing at the mouth like an innocent child
Capturing little bits of humanity
In the deep holes of sanity
Archaic amongst the spellbound
Glistening like the deep cold waters of the full moon
Only shortly lived, disturbed in a quick splash
Run the rivers wild into the jungle deep
Call out crazy like the impossible memories
Green and charming, still alone