(2014)
I’m not angry with you. I am hurting, and as usual, I don’t know why. I don’t know why I cry
It seems the only way to reach the mountain-top, is through the desert wasteland. It is only there that one might come to learn
These words are crude utensils, with which to touch you, and be touched;
Everything he has ever been taught alerts him to avert that dancing f… What is it then that demands he mu… proceed towards his certain fiery… Some deep and ancient voice within
That cranky old mongrel hound cooped up down the alley; he ain’t got no teeth no more but he still knows how to snarl. he gets them young pups all worked…
Your end? My end? Where the hell’s the middle? You say this. I say that.
Look out there, see them, boy ? They want yer juice. They’re dry, them circlin’ desert… All they want's yer juice, boy.
There’s a voice deep inside getting stronger every day. I cannot deny the message these urgent words proclaim. Why bother?
No words of wisdom. No clever rhymes. Not this day. Something heavy weighs me down.
Neon lights buzzed in staccato out… Sleep seemed something I dare not… I took myself looking to ease my a… keeping to steamy side-streets and… heading for the part of town beyon…
You think you know me, that figment dancing in your mind’… You think you understand me, that puppet dangling from imaginar… You believe you know what’s best f…
It was in those early days when everything seemed technicolor there was that explosion only inward then nothing
I have suffered much while upon this earth, so aching to belong. To whom, or what, or why?
Way up there on that hill of yours; that most hard-won ivory tower. Hiding there behind your perfect guise
The old priest gazes out upon his… each head bowed before the sacred… A scarred and broken bodied warrio… seeking inner peace and final abso… An elderly wealthy man of commerce…
