Music and Bones

I looked at myself in the mirror today.  But I couldn't look myself in the eye.  I ran my hands through my hair, and I asked myself.  Who am I?  What have I become?  I began Questioning, Interrogating my heart.  I touched each string, played each fret.  Just to see if my heart could still Thrum.  But the Music sounded Wrong.  It sounded out of tune.  Broken, as if I had Lost something.  As if I had lost Something, and now it's Gone.  My head began to ring, as the whisper of my bones finally echoed through me.  They said: (He's hidden deep, bound tight, under Lock, Key, and watchful Eye).  Well, how deep?  How tight?  Because He's beginning to be one of those things I can no longer Feel.  (About six feet, encased in a prison of steel).  Why so deep?  Who put him there and how do I get him out?  (She put him there.  But fear not, for your heart is stout.  We know you will succeed).  So I grab a shovel, and begin to Dig.  I dig, and dig until body and spirit are sore, and my soul begin to Bleed.  There's two shovels here!  Why won't you help me?!  (We're sorry.  We can't help you with This.  Oh . . . I failed to Notice, until now . . . of course you can't.  Your wrist's are damaged, your knee's broken, and your Marrow black.  I can no longer trust You.  Blinded, I was tricked into taking a Twisted path.  So it's up to me, I guess.  I'll have to find my own way back. . .

The Monsters In My Closet

I fear death.  I fear the day I'm lying on the ground, saying my last words, taking my last breath.  Or is that just in the movies?  I fear my life will turn out like the movies.  That my life is just a plot intended to be Someones brief Entertainment, only to have a "happy" end.  I'm afraid that all my hard work will amount to nothing.  That after all I've done for You, I'll only be called a friend.  I'm afraid that there Is an end.  That one day I will lose all I have.  I'm afraid of falling backwards, hands groping, but nothing to grab.  I'm afraid that if I give my heart away, I'll get stabbed. . . again.  I fear knowledge.  I fear knowing I wasn't good enough to get it right.  I fear my writing will be light.  I want my writing to be heavy.  I want my writing to leave an impression on another life.  I'm afraid of getting what I want.  Afraid that if I get everything I want, I will forget how to dream.  And I don't want to forget.  Not about You.

S.C.A.V.A.

Is this what's to come?  Is this all human evolution has left us?  Lost hope, crushed dreams, and a world filled with dust.  After all these hard working years.  After getting so far.  After all the blood, sweat, and tears.  We ruined it.  Everything we've been given.  Have we forgotten everything we are?  We've left this world to burn and Scar.  With our actions driven by greed.  With our polluting and corrupting need.  On Mother earth we feed.  But we can no longer be fed.  There's just nothing left.  This vein has been bled.  And now we are left gnawing on the hand.  There's no place left for our children to play.  They're burdened with empty hands, and barren land.  And God will no longer listen, for we have committed the ultimate Sin.  Yet we still have the nerve to pray.  We drew the last straw, struck the last match, and burned this earth to ash.  We left nothing for our kin.  We drank the rivers dry, polluted the earth, and burned the sky.  Now our throats are choking, our hands are groping, and our eyes are longing for the stare.  But we no longer have tears to cry, and there's just too much to bear.  We seek a way out, we seek forgiveness.  But no God will listen, no God will answer.  Why should they?  We got ourselves into this mess.  And now our time is pressed.  Yet they say there's nothing to fear but fear itself.  So there's still hope right?. . .  But what is fear?  I'll tell you.  WE are fear.  We create it.  In our Mind, in our Soul.  We harbor it and nurture it to Life.  Then . . . we act upon it.  And what we fear, we inevitably destroy.  So this is our grande accomplishment.  A lost generation.  Left in a hopeless, unkempt yard of rusted cars and broken glass.  You were too greedy to care, and now our lungs are burdened with Heavy air.  Regret.  We can no longer bask in sweet sunshine.  The sun would burn our eyes.  Our children will never know the feeling of a cool breeze sneaking through their hair.  They'll never get to say Their goodbye's.  And we'll never again dance in the starlight.  We're condemned to this self made prison.  It's the price of lost Reason.  It's the only thing we had in the first place.  And what we have first, we always lose Last.  This flame will burn until there's only empty Space.  Yet you still cry out for something familiar, you cry for a taste.  Of Life, of breath.  A cry for touch, for happiness.  A Cry!  Signifying: I AM HUMAN!. . . And no one can take That from me.

Prayers For Rain

I'm young.  But the soles of these shoes are worn deep.  Holes that cradle memories and experiences that were good enough to keep.  I'm tired from all this walking, just dragging my feet, hoping I might someday get There.  I'm just going to rest my eyes, then I'll keep going.  And while I sleep, I dream. . .  It's almost time to stop walking, Forever.  Such a word can describe many things.  Like the birds in the sky, and the sunshine of warm summer days.  And You.  Your beautiful smile, your mesmerizing ways.  No matter the time, no matter the place, or even the day.  You toss me about in a wonderful haze.  An unseen breeze.  Just enough to ruffle the leaves.  A drizzle of Rain.  Seeks to cleanse dirt out of old wounds and wash away the pain.  The storm clears and we have learned to dance.  Now we must wait, and leave things to chance.  The smell of crisp, cool earth clears my thoughts.  Life is vibrant, and I can finally see again.  You smell like the rain, sweet as lemon drops.  I look your way, you smile, and I can feel Time as it stops.  I know you have to go but I want you to stay.  The door Closes, and my heart begins to gray.  You leave the scent of a dozen Roses.  Reminding me of a better time, a better place.  Far away, and as abstract as space.  Empty and vast.  That's the Hole you left me.  No good thing can last.  I'm bound in chains and can't break free.  So I fall to my knees.  And issue to God my silent plea's.  All I ask, is to be in a different time, a different place.  A better place to ease the pain.  Please God.  All I'm asking for is Rain.

Comatose

We're in this together now, you and I.  So take my hand, and away we'll fly.  We'll get away from these crowded streets, the sounds, the lights.  We'll get away from the shuffling feet, lost and directionless.  And we'll go to a place where our toes can feel the cool earth of a New path.  We'll go to a peaceful place, a happy place.  I'll take you there.  Trust me, I will.  We'll fly above pristine mountain tops, where the ground is pure and streams flow, sweet as lemon drops.  We'll float together on the cool breeze, and bask in the sunlight of clear blue skies.  Believe me, please.  I'm not leading you on or telling you lies.  We'll get above it all and finally See, without shading our eyes.  We'll discover together.  We'll find all the good this world has to offer.  All you have to do is take my hand.  And we'll be inseparable, like two birds of a feather.  I'll take you to all the places you've never been.  I'll grasp your hand and never let you go.  We'll see all there is to be seen, and more.  And when you wake, and wipe the sleep from your eyes.  You'll snuggle deep into your covers.  And you'll Remember, a better place of pristine mountain tops and clear blue skies.

Thoughts of an Unsound Mind

I often wonder why I even think about you.  Because every time I do, I know your not thinking about me, and it's driving me crazy.  I often wonder if you truly see me, not look at, but See me.  It's a viscous cycle.  Yet I keep it going because you're All I think about . . . that is when I'm not stuck thinking about some other less important thing, and it's truly making me crazy.  Never, have I felt like this.  Lost in a world of hurt and utter bliss.  I really need to find solid ground.  I really need to get to a place where my feet aren't bound.  I really need to forget . . . You.  But, for now.  I'm thinking about you, like crazy.  I'm thinking about you like a starry night thinks about the moon.  Like the moon thinks about the howling wolf.  And baby how I'm howling for you!  I'm thinking about you like a calculator thinks about solving problems.  And problems think about being calculated.  And calculations think about being written down to create problems for another generation to solve!  And how I've spilled my problems, my Heart, onto this page to be . . . Solved.  But, forget that because, Right now I'm thinking about You, and going crazy!  But who am I kidding, I like crazy.  Because, right now I'm thinking about you like those stars think about bursting, and throats think about thirsting, and hearts think about yearning . . . to be Loved.  Right now I'm thinking about you like a tired man who's walked his whole life thinks about just lying down, and going to Sleep . . . Forever.  I'm thinking about you like a lie thinks about being clever.  I'm thinking about you like Holes think about . . . THIS IS SPARTA!  Like Holes think about emptiness, and emptiness thinks about that Something . . . that Something, to Fill it.  Crazy!  I'm going crazy, but that's okay, because the crazier I get, the closer you are to me.  So for now, I'm thinking about you like crazy.  Right now.  I'm thinking about you like the Roses think about the rain, and the pricked finger thinks about the pain.  Right now I'm thinking about you like a camera thinks about pictures, and pictures think about taking, and smiles think about faking.  I'm thinking about you like creativity thinks about . . . acid?  Like gangsters think about being flaccid.  I'm just Thinking about you.  I'm thinking about you and wondering Why I failed.  And I'm crazy, because I'm thinking about you.  I'm thinking about you like a taxi thinks about being hailed.  Like I think about getting in that taxi, and leaving this place, just to get out of the storm raging around me.  When I really should just take a Walk, and learn to dance in the rain.  So I'm walking, or maybe I'm crawling, or maybe just running into certain Oblivion.  All I really know is I'm still thinking.  Still thinking about you, like a heart thinks about pain.  And clouds think about rain.  And rain thinks about roses.  And the pain in that pricked finger spreads to the heart.  Only to bleed itself dry onto this paper.  I can no longer tell if I'm thinking or dreaming.  Does either one ever really come true?  Probably not.  But, for some reason I continue to dream I'm thinking about you.  I'm thinking about you like spring thinks about Life, and life thinks about summer.  And summer thinks about bees, and bees are always thinking about honey.  And Honey I'm always thinking about You!  I'm thinking about you like Crazy thinks about churning my mind until my favorite color is White.  And white always thinks about straight jackets, and straight jackets think about square padded rooms.  And squares think about circles.  And I'm thinking full circles about you!  I'm thinking about you like flaws think about cracks.  And cracks think about freezing, thawing, freezing, thawing, freezing, SNAP!  Thinks about OH!  And oh I'm thinking about you!  I'm thinking about you like my hand is thinking about arthritis right now because holy fuck crazy people can write a-lot!  So I'll take a pill, hell maybe I'll take 20.  As long as I can forget, because being crazy is not what I have in Mind.  Unless I get my own Straight Jacket to keep my thoughts in line.  Understand it, feel it, know it. . .  Well, it's going to be awhile for this pill to take effect.  So until then, your presence Haunts my thoughts.  And my thoughts eventually Lead to thinking, and thinking inevitably leads to You.  I'm thinking about you like a faded path thinks about winding.  Like enraged teeth think about grinding.  Like lost thinks about finding.  And locks think about Binding.  I'm thinking about you like a haunted poet thinks about never ending stares.  Like tired, desperate feet think about never ending stairs.  And stairs think about destinations.  I'm thinking about you like questions think about explanations.  But I'm happy.  Maybe it's this pill.  Maybe it's the fact I got all of this off my chest.  Maybe it's me realizing that I may have tried, but haven't done my best.  Either way, I'm still thinking about you.  Do crazy people realize they are crazy. This is a question I often ponder.  I'm Happy.  And I'm thinking, You.  I'm thinking about you like Christ thinks about Bread.  And the starving child thinks about being happy, and fed.  I'm thinking about you like Napoleon thinks about dynamite, and love thinks about Friday night.  Like wrong wonders why it wasn't Right.  And Right now I'm thinking about you!  I'm thinking about you like ice cream thinks about the cone.  I'm thinking about you like silent Tears think about a quiet phone.  Like an Empty house sits and wonders why it's not a home.  Because it's the people who fill it that provide hopes and dreams.  That make the Dark lighter than it seems.  So I'm thinking about you like a T-shirt thinks about a worn pair of jeans.  Like when those jeans Rip, they think about a needle and thread to fix their seams.  I'm thinking about you like a sleeping child thinks about dreams.  I'm thinking about you!  Like a kid thinks about the candy he can't have.  I'm thinking about you like a desperate man turned criminal, thinks about a purse he can grab.  And really, It's not too hard to understand, but It's still something not even Einstein could grasp.  I guess you could say. . .  It's as simple as socks thinking about shoes, and drunks thinking about boos.  I'm thinking about you like tootsies think about rolls, and pimps thinks about ho's, and ho's think about . . . getting rich!  I'm thinking about you like eyes think about blinking, and Blink-ing thinks about 182, and 182 thinks about Wishing, and wishing thinks about wells.  And well, I'm wishing I could just get you out of my head, but in this twisted reality, I'm not.  Because when I'm lost in this thought, you're really all that I have.  So I'm holding on to you.  And I'm still thinking about you.  I'm thinking about you like Mexi's think about . . . mowing?  Like Cold hands think about holding.  And burns think about scolding.  Like the Heat thinks about the flame, and the Liar thinks about who to blame.  Like Me, Thinking, about that Someone with a name.  So despite it All, I'm still thinking about you, and still wishing I wasn't.  Because this thorn in my heart is threatening overdose.  So to keep it from ceasing the beat, and bringing the Curtain to a permanent close . . . I'm thinking about, You.  I'm thinking about you like butchers think about beating . . . Suflaki, or is it meat?  I'm thinking about you like Sarah Palin thinks about killing moosin.  Like stoned loners think about using, and Judges think about choosing.  I'm thinking about you like the corner on 23rd thinks about Coke.  Like a redneck thinks about being the center of a funny joke.  I'm thinking about you like a Blind man thinks about Hope.  Right now, I'm thinking about you like a man with empty pockets thinks about being broke.  I'm thinking about you like hair thinks about expression, and expression thinks about creativity, which thinks about no longer being . . . Creative.  I'm thinking about you.  I'm thinking about you like Love thinks about . . . Giving up.  I'm trying.  I'm thinking about you like What's thinks about Up, and Up thinks about houses.  And houses think about that Something, to fill it.  Something thinks about love, and Love thinks about cheering up an old man who's lost it All.  But all the old man can think about is . . . Helium.  And helium of course thinks about balloons.  Helium should make me happy, yet I'm sad?  And while I wait for the answer, I'm thinking about you, like a Balloon thinks about why he was let go.