Can you see me?
If now I'm dreaming
Standing still in time
Draped in a revolutionary coat
Static-cloved wishes
Swirling perfect squares
Around me like fireflies
Another hole in the coffee cards
Finding the incessant reminders
Deafening
Running
Cold dead wedding invites
Shifting
Violent beautiful
I'm drowning in a sea
Of rafts
Pushing
Behind me is the fire
Ahead of me is the clock
With hateful logic
Blossoming
Into perfect ornamental screams
I am a man/
Standing on the greenest of night
With a tree to my left
The north star falling
Burning
This vision of myself
Saving the world with a flower
While I am burning
Witness me
Witness me
Witness me
Burning
Remember me, if you will,
Like an open window on an August drive west,
Or the inveterate boy stamping his feet,
Never wanting the afternoon nap.
Maybe as the 9 pm arrival to the 7 pm party,
As the empty gaze from the back of the room,
Or the arms on your shoulders under July fire,
With all of the intensity of the blue sky flowers above.
Carpet-faced, bored, trapped in front of screens,
Wild-eyed knave so pleased to meet you,
As the smell of the shirt as you draw it down,
Like your favorite looking book you never read.
The last cigarette lighter tucked in your pocket,
The invisible friend that only you believe in,
The pile of papers that never get filed,
The prayer you say out loud but don't mean.
The hanging map,
The night stand,
The second album,
The worst,
The best,
The so-so, but not that great.
Poet
Architect
Philosopher
Artist
King
Prince
Pauper
Strong
Scared
Scarred,
Full of hope
Full of shit
The jester
The judge
The beginning
The end.
Remember me, as you will,
With all of the brightness of your dreams.
What fleeting solace we have
With our arms draped peacefully
Across the never-was.
With half-drawn solitude
Peering paranoid black
Above the world outside.
There is a heart
Inside this tomb
There is a love
Inside this heart.
Rage against this life
Hate for what its done.
Rage against this world
Love across a knife
Give me one more goddamn day
To be alone with you.
Give me one more passing hour
To say what I can say.
The last apostle writes
Poems on softened wood.
The first prophet lies
Poems on hardened minds.
I'm right here
Awake and alive
Next to the tree
Eternally stunted
So if you ever wonder
Where I could be
I'm right here
Awake and alive
Always the same
Immature fuck.
Ithnk that itsa sin thef eereckles in or eyes are rpefrctly aligned and godhimself did makeusinto coresponding piecesait may seemlike stretchtroubledhead when your away mwne i am missing yout od odeath when your out therer ont eh road.everthnig looks perfedctfrom far way dcome down now thats frankly will not fly you will her thes hfirllest highas ansd lowest lows theyw illseus waving from suchg reat heights comedown ow theyll says say
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