rock

i am a gutter-dweller, true
but i still appreciate a sunset, dogwoods
and clear water even when it's still
and if i'm singing
well i'm singing just for you

i am off-kilter, under-understood
and half the time it's by my own construct
but i know it and you know it
and hell, that won't change the sky
which we wouldn't even if we could

self-degradation is a lifestyle and a fiend.
it is green-glass tea and self pity
underwhelming over-achievement
my eyes are peeled for introspection
and all anyone ever finds is a poem

but i know wind in my hair.

i always have, i suppose
it's kind of a curse, i lose myself in prose
and i talk too much
about things that aren't quite true
i keep on forgetting to see
what's right beneath my nose.