Goodnight, myself
you’ve been alright to yourself
you ate okay, and you wrote something down
skinny naked oak stands out in front of you, and sober as a wall you stare
Oh seany, what have you come to?  you handsome frailty, delete the last phrase
indulge in your favorite candy, don’t call your mother again


oh life, you curious thing

Goodnight, myself
you are a hairy creature, clawing at destiny with evenings of contempalations
the ******* boys jerking each other off while they sing of reasons to die
What are you looking for?  in those limitless interviews
destiny?
it has to come tonight, of all nights, it was all leading up to this night

Goodnight myself, singer of songs loving the cotton candy crooning crawling all over the chords
making music with a drunken rustle
Your fears have added up to the millions, and for some reason you broke down a wall today
and you didn’t realize it until just now

I've heard of fools who believe in a place like heaven where the paint dries itself and its warm and pleasant, I've heard of their books and how they pass on looks to their kids, give to those in need at gasoline stations and believe their hands are clean, frame their pictures and love everything. I've heard of those fools, and I've seen their forevers, crushed and spread over countertops, sleeping off the dust in the eye, forever thinking through forevers, with a magnificent presence.



and everyday they wipe themselves clean, science goes only so far, and then there is God, those fools make sense to me

I've heard of fools who believe in a place like heaven where the paint dries itself and its warm and pleasant, I've heard of their books and how they pass on looks to those in need of gasoline at stations and believe their hands clean, frame their pictures and love everything. I've heard of those fools, and I've seen their forevers, on countertops, sleeping off the dust in the eye, forever thinking through forevers, with a presense.

and everyday they wipe themselves clean, and that's alright with me

Original master of bottled overblown ownership, around a flogging frame of masculinity, tone more reflective than any of your own, your a master, someone who takes the wheel, the navigator, russel crowe at his finest, with a head heald toward the mist of sea you take glee in knowing your place, your status, your finest hour, punishment, corporal, minsitster, sinister, your enemies fear you, your colleagues believe in you, won’t you take on another cruise ship, take on another fluke? Nothing is quite in danger, yet it is always looming right in front of you, the danger, the edge of the world, beckoning, its black marvel is a hole in the sea, and you will swirl around its edges, knowing nothing but the night, the cold, the winter, the old man with the mop in hand warns of omens, and the crew complies because they listen, they are wise,

Hold down your anchor! The end is approaching!  you know what they came for, they want you intact, whole, at the core, a piece that they can rivet, take away, reach down to the center and feel the pulp at the fingertips, pull it out and hold it towards the wind, its our apple, bite into it again

oh liberty,! oh freedom , let me be at your expense, I am dying to get to know you, I am only getting started, I am only getting comfortable, not even the age of the **** of the joke on friends, not even there yet, not even there, still young, still full of life, still full of whatever I need to be!  still full of pos a bil a ty, separated out and its a hopscotch word, a bit up surd, lovers met around the chocolate fountain possessing their fate, and I possess my fate with a keyboard, keys and musical keys, working with the fingers, a knack for songs, good memory

God, I live in a palace!  God, he is not dead, he is relocated, he's weaving through the music, satanitc verses are met with heavenly melodies and hes meant for it, cherish it, whose got the better of me?  

no no  no, you’re up for surrender to his power, you’ve fathomed it, talked about it, debated it in your silly little politics course, you’re meant for this discussion, it is what you were born for, out of the foul mouthed, out of the obscene, the gestures are hidden, their in between every phrase, uttered out at a key, uttered out over a particular suit and tie and way of being

Surge surge surge!  its meant for it!!!

Stuck to their thoughts, the quiet dealings while the world restlessness exposes itself before their eyes, and they do not flinch, there is a fear at the fibre of New York City, the ananymoty keeps one brave in their singular ways, just a scratch, just a droplet, without considering one another, exchanges at the counter kept short, exchange a few wads for cheap goods that will last a while, that happens to be my style. Astoria queens, where the colors don't mesh together quite right, taxes, payroll, bookkeeping, lots of wine, novelty next to 99 cent, cars crammed at the intersection, baffled in the brook, crammed in the nooksc the books are protected by a sheet to keep out the rain, at the corner there is a man going insane, city living, the expression, nothing's good, but can't complain, dotted taxi cab advertisements, launching a career, launching an attitude, launching a party, we can do business for you, step right in and see keep my business card hardly an issue, hardly the matter, coffees crummy, coffees not so bad what's the matter with you?  Emotionless, dreamless, left to the lights and sleepiness, a work day, a day of pay, churning out a penny at the end, churning out dollars that we can spend a loss of security for a good, or perhaps an investment in a future security, the city wish it could do it all for you, Astoria queens, sewn together freakenstein American Dream

frazzled, unexpected, scrounged in a ball in the corner, with the different lullabies flying overhead, the masked patient is ready for his medication, won't be easy, and it won't last very long

he claws for a bit of rope, a bit of escape, a bit of cloud, the room is full of them now, and on he wails, on he dreams, waiting for something better to come, the lifeline is weak

what is this masked, dazed man to do, when his nails are down to the nub and he no longer has anything to reach out for?  the images on the television seem frightening, violent, ******, threatening, or sad, what is he to do?  throws the blanket over his eyes, counts, 1, 2, 3, and wishes it all to disappear

and disappear it does, he is away, he is blank, it is white, more like eggshell, there are bumpy edges, but smooth to the touch, sensual, and his little citadel is all he needs to know, all he needs to remember, and the worries of reaching the lifeline slowly begin to fade, like a sign in the rearview mirror on the highway, go along, go along, go along, and in his squatted position he rolls around, the sensual feeling is all there is, all that needs to be, cloaking his skin like a hot shower, like a nicotine buzz, like a drunken stupor, yes, nothingness

no conflict, no nothing, no insights, no roots to uproot, no, just the eggshell room, his citadel, his life