Nothing makes my heart so wild as being
In possession of a potent night
Racing down the stairs in a nude descension
Shedding and discarding my hide
But the bold strokes crack so quickly and it's often that I wonder why
Dripping at the slow motion rate of surrender
Hanging to my bones as they dry
How can I want something more than a new hell in which to fry
When I see in only black and white
There's a sinful sort of side of being
So contained a bit like being lost
Stumbling thru the background like a small town loner quietly a whispering my thoughts
Into my cupped hands
Folded and monk like
At least that's what I've always said
How does writing letters from the lonely margins
Feel when there is no hair on my head
Is the solitude I seek a trap where I've been blindly led
Tell me
Where then do I go instead
When atonement comes in distant waves
I might wait until the nest to break
Choking thru forgiveness at a sunfly prompter
Staring thru the back of my face
It's a vulgar hidden part of being
Tethered to the world right now
Spending all my dollars to remain a member
Nothing in my eyes but a scowl
Do I bother to define myself beyond what they allow
Have a already forgotten now
