to go, and to come back, and feel home in all the tips of the world that matter; i don't want to say grateful, but days are full of great gestures, maybe it's finally time for heroes, the ones to wear shiny capes and spit in each other's faces. the wide open sea lies next to me as i roam around this tiny bed of visions on a little paper boat, twelve rude boys on the oars, ready to stir, and the wind spits back at me too, into my tired and dirty eyes just before they close to hang back into their space of flickering sunlight.

kindling slow flickering in fresh night air, crackles sweaty dark misty cannot see much through the music, shapes like spirits flowing down tubes of smoked up refined sweet dreams, dreams so near they seem like memories, memories so far they fade like the faces i want close to me. days are slow and languid and hazy through the sunset blue drooping over the city, and the world too seems far away

i want to start about excitement, but the energy has been so much lately it's blissful to feel fatigue in the flesh, weary wandering winds all around me but just hanging still in the mind as if too scared to move, not dispersing any of the smoke, ash flying about landing everywhere. it's wasteland, but cheerful, and full of sun, memories of old songs and old loves, old and never leaving; the dust looks peaceful in pink sunsets, and the clouds move to their own rhythm, different parties out there yet i don't even mind; i got the best ones to dance with right here within

to think back, all the seasons that have rushed through the sunset rains, forever floating through the rusty streets of your mind models, illuminated by neon lights of the cheap type of romance. blinded by cars that always run too fast, too close, closer, straight into your eyes and you don't remember what you did all night, moments don't add up to anything larger. a string of them is all there is, too much, all the images blur into an overlay of more and more and more, and trembling. my fingers smell of the dirt left behind, i vent as the sun sets, beautifully

a drop of poison in the peace, & i'm back again. all is the same, the need for more; more life; knowing more is more confusion in the thick jungles of the mind, & i close my eyes at night listening to time pass by in silence; a shiver, it's still freezing cold so we skip about trying to bring the blood to boil again; cold, sun sunny sunshine days