Artwork is my own.
The stillness crawls over me
Like centipedes, down the cracks and creases
I don’t know how to be
What to feel, when the feeling deceases
The emptiness is yawning, but the solitude does not falter
I’m not raring against the bonds, or straining as hard against the halter
I’ve got the blinders on in the most grown up way
Because I leave it as it is, and do not nurture dismay
Time spent alone is like an angel’s sweet kiss
Brief, disappearing in the stretching hours of dusk like pre-dawn’s mist
I don’t want to wake up in Heaven’s night, the dreams are inescapable
Something is changing, and something is clawing for a return to incapable
There is something to the smooth transition
So gradual I can’t even feel it, or grant it my recognition
I know I’m better, that’s what they tell me in their own ways
To the hour I’m clean 10 months, 25 days
The waking hour is waxing, waning, and repeating
The man in the mirror can’t see, blanket thrown over, reflection defeating
Not that I wouldn’t stand to look myself in the eye
But rather I’d spend less time, wishing I was some other guy
You get one life, one hand of cards, one mishap with trigger discipline
Because you’re a human rat, in the human rat experiment, a participant
You could learn to live off the land, but we’re busy making it unlivable
Because sometimes home is just a bit too hospitable
Once you have conquered the very power of the atom itself
What’s there left to do other than get busy building hell?
Maybe open a coffee shop?
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