In the Delaware of my mind.

I stand here blind

With tears in my eyes

Surrounded by the life

I’ve always dreamed

Thinking of you there

Alone and in fear

Knowing no one’s called in weeks

Except myself and another

Who I hope like I

Told you you’re loved

And have done no wrong

Like I’ve too

So often thought

Living year to year like a vagabond

Drifting through the mud of life

It’s hard but man it’ll be alright

Look West I’m here in the dead of night

Standing by this olive tree

In California I no longer dream

Living mine the best I can

Drinking with you

Hand in hand, walking I can see

The two of us, then cracking crabs

Pig Beaches on parade

Just two lost souls, now growing old

What’s left is yours to keep

For nothing lost is truly gone

Now Lady Garth I see her too

In the Delaware of my mind.

a lone bird

There’s a lone bird

chirping somewhere unseen

and a cold gentle wind

scratching at my knee,

it’s the crack of dawn

sunrise

another day I’ll see,

and though my throat hurts

my ankle weak

I too sing a little tune

with that lone bird

just to let him know

I hear him.

affliction or redemption

What’ll it be

said the man

on the stand

to the reflection

looking very grim

sunken eyes

of redemption

come on come on

choose our next addiction

this time though

be aware

aware of my remission

I know I know

what fun is there in that

hell why don’t we find out

it’s either or perhaps

I’ve given you the right

that now I’m taking back

the will to fight the urge

I know that’s what I lack

so taking down the mirror

with no one staring back

the man poured the reflection

with ice into his glass

he calmly took a sip

one more than another

and when the glass was empty

to him it did not bother

just one more

thought the man

understanding his reflection

it’s up to you to choose

affliction or redemption.

It is a musical

Locked in a windowless room

there is no time,

only the faint sound

of what I imagine to be

cars passing by, and the ho-hum

of emergency vehicles,

truck tires and angry squeals

exhausted pipes, clinking steel

turbine engines far off zeal.

It is

a musical,

here in the dark

outside, I know, it’s everything but.

It’s too early to be tired and I’m tired again.

It’s
too
early
to
be
tired
and
I’m
tired
again.

Not
the
I’ve
been
on
my
feet
all
day
tired.

No.

It’s
that
special
kind
of
tired
we
don’t
dare
speak.

It’s
the
reason
we
stand
all
day
on
our
feet.

Yes.

It’s
that
special
kind
of
truth
we
work
so
hard

to
forget.
Until
we
remember,
no
longer
able
to
sleep.