break- up

my head is pounding

in the middle of every song-

in the move of every pawn

i see your face...

i put your wrong

inside it's place...

its fucking over

and we both know it-

you dont show it,

you dont show the carefull

equality

of the earth

and the sky

and the wind

and the ground

and the music

inside your soul-

easily spent,

halftime's approaching,

your sun is encroaching,

it's surrounding us now,

the dark side of the universe is unveiled...

reading onto different letters,

mysteries of long hours

and cut hair

and bent suspicions

of people you will never meet again....

it's quickly over,

so quickly grown over,

i'm so over this

and nobody really gives a damn, anymore...

so bottle it up,

commercialize,

sell it to the masses

and market it as a

false advertisement,

and salt the winds

with every stone you throw....

water underneath the moon

moves itself towards equality,

towards adultery,

shut your mouth

and arrest him

for slander!!

for arson!

for blasphemy!

for going against the grain!

for commiting public intoxication!!

for buying plants!!

for growing gardens!!

for changing social standards!

for enticing the general publics attention!!

arrest him!

... When the moon is full,

everything is enlightened.

everything is brightened.

everything is changed....

and nothing will ever be the same.

every letter is pressed,

every soldier is kissed,

how many lives are lost

before we see the end? before we start again?

.... another lost line,

another open heart,

another heritage of inequity..

another night of howling,

jostling memories forever

back and forth,

a small line of essence

locked and lost forever

into the sequence of

time and space.

And who am I?!

and who are you?!

and why are we so different?

and how are we the same?

do we not all play this game?

this blank absence from one

thing to the next,

the next big test,

the next big thing around the bend?

is the grass always greener?

or do we just imagine what

could always be better?

maybe its the optimist in me,

maybe it's the freedom,

maybe it's the free

who are enslaved,

by their own negligence

of the imperfections

of the world;

maybe they're afraid to make it better,

girlfriend,

boyfriend,

letting you know this time it must be real...

so involved with ourselves,

not involved enough with each other...

try and succeed,

and in recent years

you'll find

an undermind

of unacknowledged

ideas

dripping away,

past and present,

future and

orgins,

sort it out...

and build your forts,

of leaves,

and sticks....

(and clay, and bricks,

and stones, and tricks...

and spells,

and slumped spines

stacked uselessly,

one upon the other,

in gypsy heaps

of heads and

lipsticks...)

(who are you looking for?

and have you found her?

and have you found your stars

inside someone else's eyes?

and have you had time,

to look for a ride?

because everyone is lost,

and we're all looking for a way home,

so throw your loans

away and

start looking

for the

truth.)