I am the disbanded masses
I am the pauper on the grass

I am Watching the world through
crafted eyes glazed with pain

Funny is fun and
Sadness it seems,
darkens everything

When that last drink makes you sick,
when your huddled over by organic forces,
stare at the ground and really think,
think about that moment and how you got there
think of how real it makes you feel

We're all sick and dying
sometimes you want to paint over that
you want to give it some color
the deep reds and the yellow golds
the circles and pyramids
the bird and the eye
Everything has meaning
real or implied

I'm the offbeat the late beatnick
on the street separated from it
exhausted from a buildup
drained from what he has seen

lips still into a crooked level line
teeth grind
hands slide

It
is a
swell day
and all the
things that make
it so will never go
away
further down
still
it goes
wasted agitated
by the depths
of
love's
killing
throes

peace, a piece of me
collapses
sends the signal beep beep beep

the thought center

center in on me

waves of nothing sweep across the midnight planes of being
i alone live
there is no cold anymore
there
is
... ... ... ...
... ... ... ... ... ...
... ... ... ... ... ...


digging up the past
spoonful by spoonful of sweet memory
basting the brain in nostalgia and energy
5 4 3 2 start
break ing
I can't say yes!
I can't cope with no!
I cant!
wait
till eye can not
be home