he needs a purpose and a new way to clean up the mess of
butterflies cluttering his mind, or at least whatever's left. going through the
motions, knowing his heart sunk in his chest. out in the world, but still
always stuck in his head. under the pressure of a ticking time bomb, either
that or I’ll never wake up again to the sound of tomorrow beating on my front
door with a full clip of grin and bear it. san francisco memories by needlepoint
introduced to your flesh canvas as if you wouldn’t be able to keep your voice. tossing
and turning, beating the life out of my pillow. what have you been learning, I
remember when the times were all so simple. why do we always seem to keep
stumbling over the little things. I was probably nodding my head listening to
the rhythm of the wind in the trees. in my holiday sweater guillotine, at least
I can see the bay from the twenty fourth floor. window shopping for those
scotch tape bifocals, the broken record that kept spinning for nine years.
single handedly faulting millennium for the current collective of crooked
perspectives. people watching people on reality television, but I find people
in reality more entertaining anyway.
keep your pennies locked up in case
the devil herself might be on her way
leave your distance when she calls your name
she’ll let you take a picture when she falls from grace
in a rose tinted paper boat floating below the surface of a
boiling iceberg, paddling with scissors. scratching to pierce the skin on each
one of your seven layers. grinning to yourself, the tragedy in the mirror.
reminiscent of a misguided middle school gangster rapper, keeping it real like
everyone else. your whole disposition reminds me of vacuuming ants off the
bathroom tile. performing my tenderloin shuffle in rush hour sidewalk traffic,
no place to catch a breath. in between aliens cashing checks and blowing
cigarette smoke as a fashion trend. claustrophobia bubble wrapped and sent off
to watch another tired sunrise. and I’m off to watch another tired sunrise.
confrontations of the highest test
every time the curtains lie to rest
I swear to love they know you’re hiding there
you’ll find your life a mess
observations from the lion’s den
safe in the cage, they’re blind and deaf
I swear to love they know you’re playing dead
you’ll find your life a mess
keep your pennies locked up in case
the devil herself might be on her way
leave your distance when she calls your name
she’ll let you take a picture when she falls from grace