Words Lay Flat on a Page
Don't fall asleep
in daydream nation, In the land of illusions You can't see the mirrors, Find words so true Your soul can feel it, Your lips can taste it, Your eyes hide inside it. Look around, It's all inside you, Reflections and refractions Through projection and distraction. Souls surround you In so familiar a sequence, Angels come to guide you, Demons start inside you. Don't fall asleep in daydream nation, You got a scratch you can't itch? Yeah, me too. Walk around without focus, Get lost in the ether, A soul needs a cradle, Sleep flat on the floor. Look all around you- We're kids looking for answers, Wide-eyed we wander Through a circus of shadows. Souls surround you In so familiar a sequence, A friend when you're lonely, A snake in the desert. Don't fall asleep in daydream nation, On the physical plane I'm doped up in the angles. Think you found yourself something? You got something that's yours? Watch it slide through your fingers, Slip off your shaking hand. Look left and then right, Focus and unfocus, Light stands and it dances, Watch it shine and then shiver. Souls surround you In so familiar a sequence, Your mother once your child, Your father once your brother. Don't fall asleep in daydream nation, Some nightmares last lifetimes, Trap doors on the path. Sickness will find you, Call it a cancer of the spirit, In your dreams you'll see it, Watch it creep behind you. Look up and then down, You're chained in both directions, Cycles of balance and imbalance Tethered by promises and hexes. Souls surround you In so familiar a sequence, Mystics line up to guide you, Madman distract you in plain view. Don't fall asleep in daydream nation, In the land of illusions You can't see the mirror. You got a scratch you can't itch? Yeah, me too.
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From time to time,
Ideas tend to combine in my brain’s circuit’s. All the facts and titles quickly come to mind, I can efficiently calculate numbers in a quicker than average time, I recall the states and capitals With a relative, yawning ease, Along with the names of criminals And the symptoms of each common disease, I adhere to the laws of traffic, Remember how to turn on the TV, Recite my favorite movie lines with absolute accuracy. With few exceptions, My body tends to function properly. Each breath comes out slowly, I tap my foot to an even beat, Stand up straighter than I used to, And smile at everyone I meet, My muscles contract and then release as I make my casual motions, I wash my hair and scrub my face and top it off with lotion, My heart it tends to read and react, My feet maintain an even stride, My ears seem sharper than most, And I can see all the things that nowhere tries to hide. From time to time, I become lost in recollection. I remember every pearl And I remember every smile, A fair portion of my firsts, Even if it’s been a while, I relive the moments of absolute failure, And the ones of triumph too, Stretches of self-destructive discomfort, Those never-ending days of feeling blue, Shame still sleeps in my moments of deceit, Like that ugly, restless feeling that hangs around defeat, And though I’ve slowly been wishing farewell to regret, I’ll never truly be free from the shackles of its debt. It should be a bigger deal to everyone That kids go to sleep hungry, Why’d we break out country into states And our states into counties? Why are we itching to draw lines? Why do we put people in boxes? In the woods the living roam free, No distinction between coyotes and foxes, Why can’t we be a little fuckin’ kinder? We all got an illness we can’t cure, We’ve all fallen asleep at the wheel, Taken in chains by a chemical blur. From time to time, I forget that I need other people. In a tense conversation of personal defense, I found myself a truth previously unknown, It just found its way out, Like a bloodhound finds its way home, It wasn’t so much the words, But the thought they put together, Strange how a sentence can put you at ease, Guess that’s why people believe in heaven, Selfish has always riddled my wires, I get lost in self-reflective analysis, But somewhere out in the desert, I was swept inside a lonesome abyss, The mind doesn’t flower without an idea, It needs a spark to ignite its understanding, But even if you’re glued to the underground You can still hear the bird’s sing. From time to time, Things align, Intertwine, Amplify and Magnify Dream upon the mountainside In my mind. Time’s never going to be the straightest of all lines, We fucked that up and no one fell off the end of the Earth, So, what’s yesterday got in store? Who’s shining their shade into my daydream? What’s it like on the razor’s edge? Why do I keep sleeping on the couch When I have such a comfortable bed? It’s all out of order, man, You disappointed yourself before you did it, All of this happened in a blast, And now we’re stuck here living it. Some people like to think that life is a one-way road to the grave, Just a first-class ticket to eternity among the worms. I don’t really blame them. But I, In my longing and searching nature, Without an idea of God within or heaven above, Like to think of life as a collection of intersecting, winding country roads out in the hinterlands of Idaho, A finite cobblestone path in every imaginable variation; Some smooth, Some bumpy, Some patterned, Some patterned poorly. Along the road are Strategically-placed gas stations in unknown locations-- Sometimes you catch them before you hit empty and sometimes you get stuck in one place, And it takes all your strength, All your faith, To drag your weight to the oil pumps of hope. On the road you can’t help but notice the abandoned vehicles, Covered in rust, Fractured and scarred; Some stare at the crash longer than they should. Some days conditions are pleasant, Others are riddled with storms of on and off fog, Baseballs of hale looking for your skull, Ice lining the edges of the road, Smoking mirages that don’t need heat. Sometimes the road seems hopeless, But how we handle the weather determines our fate. As I’ve traveled these trails, I’ve come to believe that this has all happened before, And the direction to clarity lives deep within our minds, Sending signals and feelings down our spines when danger creeps closer, But it’s all out of order, As our thoughts are never fixed to a point on a line. How often do we remember the future? How many dreams have I placed among the past? How do the dark and the light slice through all the dimensions in every direction of the maps of our minds? Sometimes I remember the future and Place my dreams among the past. I jumped on a plane
that was only fit for two, the ride there was with the pilot, the ride back was supposed to be with you, the takeoff was clean, the route was indirect, we bounced off stars, hitting our favorite constellations, tracing them with red smoke, and just as we were about to land we rode off into the sunset instead and I never met you at the underground station. I rode shotgun on a train that runs only on the wind’s tracks, holding a gun three times the side of me, knock my head off clean, so I can ride through the tunnels, the traffic of the clouds just in time to reach you as the headless mystery of your dreams. I took off running into a cloud of mist that I figured you were at the end of, I stopped to look around twice, saw a man with a hat that covered his eyes and he exposed his black teeth with laughter; asked me if he could have a bite. Then I saw a dark angel with powdered cheeks and a pale complexion wings of feather soft as sandpaper and I became glued to her coarse affection. I got tired of my shadow always moping around, so I jumped straight down, breaking the ground, looked up and saw my shadow following me down, he said “you can try to hide but there’s no escaping the light” and I knew then what I have known ever since: No daydream can meet the moonlight, I met you at the underground station an hour late, but you were always happy to see me. I’m the owner of two judging eyes,
A restless pair of feet, Some sharp hip bones, A bunch of white teeth, A wide mouth, Two small, soft hands, A couple of gangly legs, Thin arms I left someone draw on, A left to right part in my brown hair, And a jagged pair of cheek bones. The beautiful girls love to photograph themselves and the girls with baggage film themselves fucking and the boys with white teeth dog all the chicks and the girls with good dads find a boy who won’t dog them and the dogs bark at anything that stumbles by. The girls who envy Marilyn Monroe dream of finding Kennedy and the girls with no self esteem shoot to be Maggie Gyllenhaal and the boys with no confidence sit around at home and the boys who want to be rock stars stare at their eyes in the mirror and the kids play ball out in the street. The winds blow so freely through your hair and the moon paints something perfect on your skin and the gloom puts thickness in your eyelashes and the smell you carry holds me tight and the mind would feel less if it knew more. The sensitive kids become overly internal and the outspoken princes get their noses broken and the sexy chicks with annoying voices moan like the Sirens and the high school outcasts never forgive their oppressors and the wind blows the drifters from place to space. The frat kids drug the fresh meat with a chemical infused juice and the fresh meat regret wearing such short dresses and the pleasure addicts just say they live in the moment and the sorority girls are just begging for your eyes and the proud fathers hold their daughter’s hands as they walk them into school. I have a laundry list of complaints: a bad past, a jealous mind, an obsession with pleasure, a broken heart, a number of mistresses, an empty wallet, a wandering mind, a fragmented soul and a flare for the dramatic. The homeowners have to cut their lawns every weekend and the kids who don’t fuckin’ care never shave their pubes and the girls who’re whipped grow landing strips on command and the alcoholic’s son always takes the biggest sips and the little boys dream of growing up and being just like dad. The kindergarten teacher digs dominatrix and the basketball coach is mixing his medicines and the sister is sneaking someone in the side door and the grandparents are hooked on Percocet and the lady at the bank always gives a good smile. You never seem to stick around, and I’m not sure I want you to, and I don’t think I can take care of an angel, and I don’t want to keep fucking with your mind, and I can’t figure out what keeps fucking with mine. The girls who envy Marilyn Monroe cry themselves to sleep after bad days and the girls with no self esteem spread their legs to mask their sorrow, and the boys with no confidence make friends on the computers, and the boys who want to be rock stars scoff at everyone who doesn’t like punk rock and the handsome little boys take walks in the evening with their mothers. The beautiful girls dress themselves in the last fashion, and the girls with baggage talk shit about the girls they think are prettier than them. and the boys with white teeth live in fancy flats, and the girls with white teeth walk their boys on leashes, and the cats cry hysterically when you try to put a leash around their necks. I’m looking for something eternal, anything that lasts longer than a pair of shoes, something to lend my lips to, anything that sees the way I do, something to replace my highs, anything that doesn’t run on batteries, something to let me sing in key, anything with an original melody, something that won’t twist and spin it, anything to quiet the cynic. I’ve been downhearted, There’s something in me that feels defeated. I’ve been sitting behind waterfalls, Covering myself in movement, All the while standing still With revenge in my blueprint, I’ve been crawling on my feet, Keeping pace with half steps, Slurring out simple melodies Like an owner whistling to its pet, I’ve eaten shots at my pride, Ingesting them with chipped teeth, Chewed my tongue so long Just to swallow what I bleed. I’ve been downhearted, There’s something in me that feels defeated. There’s always someone waiting around Just to steal my own glory, Making my shortcomings their strengths Using manipulated stories, There’s always something watching me Through the utmost naked eye, You can fool yourself many times but your conscience never lies, There’s usually something nagging me, Holding my instinct down, It may be keeping me from a fall, But it’s leaving me underground. I’ve been downhearted, There’s something in me that feels defeated. I’ve learned to be righteous in my mystery, Giving only what needs to be seen, To keep from shooting flies With a gun that’s too heavy. I’ve been downhearted, But I have yet to be defeated. He disappeared as he wrote it…
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