i guess i'll jump on this band wagon

yell around for twenty miles
our little lights all cut our smiles
under eyes that want for rest

television playgrounds, washed up lives
over-believers, god we're self-deprived
only for others, watching this mess

not so bold

if skies can change from rain to snow
why can't i see down this road?

reception rock

no, i don't want to keep on
reuniting with these things
without you all
i don't want to see my ship leave harbor
and i sure as hell don't want to
be the one to call it back

guess i'm the sap.
(but you know, mountains speak
better than circuits).

rain, torso, fire

you feel like a felony
and i'll fall down next to you
if i have to, roll down to meet you
curl up to prove i can do this
while the rain meets my feet in
great blocks of hesitancy
button by button
a game of expertise
never have i ever lifted my feet

strange, you kept me warm for split
seconds, like fractures
you felt strong and simple
and i'm talking real, real
one plus one and so on
because you could
kumbaya and all, and maybe i stared too
long at your scar

(not that either of us had delusions.
you know, it would have been
a kind thing to do
out in the middle of nothing, a first
for me at least.)

five, maybe six of us packed up like
the kids we are, thinking about
smoke and fire, fire and rain
the year 1980 and pheromones
this is where i get off
(no, not like that.)
twelve o'clock and in twenty
minutes i bet this will all be a dream

it kind of feels like that, anyways

cellar door (breadloaf 3)

when i awake
in twelve different positions and alone
swollen and alone
when somnolence sets me choleric, clustered
i become a sheep, and i'll follow you like a
sheep even when you whisper death in my ear
because your watch fob glints, you see?
and i'm willing to follow your glint even
thought it tells me
time is running out
and i know for a fact where caravan leads.

black box (breadloaf 2)

i could wear you like a pendant
sink into you and take your
linen, corduroy
until you were bare-chested in the dark
until your smile disappeared
and you sighed a lamp out, for me
to see my handiwork
and know that i created you with a hand and
kept you singing in my sternum

blitz (breadloaf 1)

we tried to sink our teeth into each other
but it all came up bricks.
chipped teeth, stale vermouth, your voice heavy with
blame you won't assign
just keep on moving, four-cornered mind
i scratch at you with my eyes but of course you will never hear it.
it's all blue skies, black box, put on a face
does love do that to you?
words skinned at numbed by too many bricks
too many fingerprints clawing for your attention
as if a word of thanks would bring this box
down with us