Compression is an alibi;
Dense earth puddling
And flowers suffering
For there is no space to grow
Until Worm makes its way
Casting its gold
Into trueness of soil
With no damage plan
Becoming the end of the road.
If that was then
Then this is by no means the end,
Two wheels rolling
And clouds so clear
Even birds faintly pass between them.
A dollar is gone.
Was it an even game?
A hand that served up
Delicious things, unnamed.
An engine that roared
As it began.
Lucky is every lost soul traveling on;
Full tank and such sweetness of a radio,
Then by two, sun’s beating in
Escaping for a moment into shade.
Watch Clouds and every bird so clear.
That was then and now is the end.
Walked the seas and weathered the rain
Woke up in morning’s frost
Felt snowflakes upon my nose
Hot sun upon my ears
Wind blew off my worn out hat
Dust flew in my eye
Humidity soaked me inside out
Shriveled me up like a raisen
Saw through twenty three hours of darkness
Never slept for twenty four days straight
Walked upon burning sand
Slept upon jagged rocks
Met a mosquito in a spiders web
Fell into a great bear’s den
Entangled by a caterpillar’s cocoon
Demonized by a shadow
Yet still I look for tomorrow’s bread
As today has come to an end.
You were a boxer
Every Thursday night
After Big Jim’s Saloon
Took a bottle and you
Out to a cobblestone night.
A muffled mind with intention,
Fireworks covered in mud,
And a slow slur that wound up
Walking a tightrope,
The top rope
Of a dark, four cornered ring.
You liked the big city
Because your slow down
Never coincided with a dead end.
Your betting days
Flashed jackpot on your bedroom wall:
Red, green, and yellow.
And your highschool sweetheart
Hung alone on peeling paper
That crackled back at you
As you walked naked
From your bedroom
To a comfortable routine
You knew so well.
Picture if you will
And together in a spell
From the start it was a myth
And you cried as if unearth
My tonic was the birth
To last unlike death
Gathering the eyes
Of ten thousand hungry men
In a stately march
Will I live alone?
Will I seek a heart?
And to the end
I collapse once again
Longer then our wind
Thicker then our storm
And then all at once
Dropped, it was to end.
Holes into nothing
And this is where I end.
Dropping as I awaken,
Say it again,
I didn’t hear you all the same.
And if I wake up
I am left to break up.
Minor chord progressions,
Like my heart,
It is the same song all the same.
Footsteps into distance
As my heart beats into resistance,
Does music still go on?
Is there an echo,
After all, it’s my memory all the same.
In the end, we never really know what we’re coming up against.
Like a thrill seeking pre-teen with ill conceived notions of danger.
…life ain’t a movie man. Life just ain’t like that.
So there we are, hanging out with our dicks up Five street.
I shot into darkness as if I knew this foreign lover language;
But never did skies open for my warmest of wishes.
Collapse! Collapse my dear lover, it’s gone on too far.
I’ve pushed to the end and I’m not quite back again.
…Whisper my madness with two squiggled lines to display it in this dust.
Misunderstanding again with my heart. It is drawstrings. It is amicable.
It is pleasing to eyes that only pray upon sunsets.
It is a thousand masterpieces; perfected.
I cannot hurry your authorship, for wind is at neigh and folly on the deck.
A thousand hungry scavengers await in lost calluses at bays end,
Like cavernous regions of our shoreline amidst Gaia’s sweetest affection.
Cower young souls, breath in foul punches of thine enemy,
Congruency only relays smartest on deftest of blokes.
Carry this lanyard on further, as wayward as you choose.
My future is not to what end,
My future is of end that lacks in clarity.
For there shall be no tide
That leaves me jiggling in madness,
Clutching at the newly spent sands
Gathering about my consciousness.
Nor shall there be a whirlwind epoch
That holds in my madness
To set aside future battles
That crawl about my fingers
And draw my breath to an abrupt halt.