II: dad

well, here we are again.
only this time i'm rounding corners
and taking back
what i never knew i had.

i go past the rows of mourners,
and i rake the sand,
but how can i be sad?
i'll just back to the motel and pack.

i've left my eternal brand -
but i'm never the foreigner,
'cause i'm finally on track,
thinking this were never really this bad.

mom

gas, brake, clutch.
let's put this baby into reverse
and then many we'll break the curse -
travel 'cross the country, learning and such.

drive, park, first.
i've reached for the dreams
but nothing's ever as it seems,
and as for me, i'm prepared for the worst.

it wouldn't do any good to say i wish i were far away,
would it?

how we gonna pay...?

welcome to america,
where the howling goes through dawn
until the wolves all stop and the homeless start
and we wonder where we've gone.

ridden with disease,
my conscious fights to find a spark
to ignite the raw and dangerous feel that
comforts us in the dark.

but now and then
something shoots this way
and pierces through the shield,
singing,
sighing,
crying,
dying,
let's hear what we have to say.

and the smoke clears....

ashes, ashes
we
all
fall
down.

a final marriage of dreams and imagery before i start another day.

snow lined streets -
parapets of powder soft beneath my feet.
if it weren't for the cold,
i'd forget that i was living
and i'd walk off into nowhere
and finally start giving.

me and my planar

the piano pulses,
guitar twangs,
the world around me lets itself
become enveloped in the music of eras ago.

my heart races,
mind sings,
i think about the life head and
know that three years from now i'll be born anew.

what lies beyond?
cliché inquiries are just so right,
because all i can come up with is
the archetypal wistfulness of sixteen years of dreaming.

and you know
what?
it's alright.

inspired by something vague

i dreamt last night
i was over the edge,
drowning in heather and
crying out sand.

then i woke up sweaty
and looked at my hands,
saw the blood of the innocent,
and knew i was right.