could it
be constant variations of a mis-firing heart?
my wishing well is running short and now i know
that all my quarters have been
mistakenly thrown in
im left with nothing except my own pocket linen.
ask the passers-by to stop their stride, "can you
spare me a coin or two even if its just a nickel"?
it will have to do for now
i need the sound
of dreams leaving my hand and my feet leaving the ground
oh why do you
change my point of view?
im so easily amused by you.
and you're

looking code red, this is danger
why have i become such a stranger
even to
even to myself
i should be trying to get sober
oh well, the night is almost over
and i am
i am all alone

the only cloud in the sky
shakes hand with gusts of wind as it flies by
her shared mentions of carefree kites.
un-intentional downward glances.
i keep them ambiguous enough for me to manipulate
into my own equation for answers
never submitted to the multiplication chart
maybe then i could've patched the ceiling with these writings
they might just make themselves worth something someday
and this gram of hope
next to all the other substances i sell,
offering the world a short lived release
and a collar kept a notch too tight
notch too tight
the look is
mistaken
oh please, what are you taking
from me i had to be the turtle.
but the camera chooses where we lay
all the two makes caring days. all the "hey's,"
armored truth makes sewers sweat. we are distant.
you're too artistic for some
you're too artistic for some
oh darling, you're timing is genuine.

looking code red this is danger
why have i become such a stranger
even to
even to myself
i should be trying to get sober
oh well, the night is almost over
and i am
i am all alone

we could play a game of emotional stickball.
i can catch it if you can toss it.
my eyes arent as deep and you should never dive blindly into them,
but until then,
wet your feet.