"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

Through rays you touched me
Burning my skin
Changing my color to crimson
Where once I worshipped
I now live in shadows
impulsively muttering your words

To see is to defeat

Though few make it out alive...
and I can feel all these splinters sinking into my mind
As I try to resist the temptation and habit
slipped to me by some pesky rabbit
What of my mind?
Was it ever my own?

Turn on the moon
and I will dance for you.

Oh, Theodore
Take me to the shore
Of where I used to play

I want the gravel, and the stone wave
With the sign that read,
'Children, don't misbehave'

Foggy afternoon, you'll set sail
And when you do,
Don't you lose that red ball cap

Imagine that,
Imagine something more
Than just a photograph

Briny sea breath
Rolling off the cove,
Into the cracks of the car window

Heavy highway left behind
For small back roads,
And hidden groves

Where by itself,
A salty breeze blows

Feeling pretty unfulfilled
here’s a cheers to spending that
twenty-second year
over worked and under paid.
Unhappiness disguised as routine
mingling about with bursts of extremes
that I mistake for real living.
The grog, the sweat, the drowning struggle
to conform to that American bill paying drone.

I think in black and white
but I always create in color.
There’s a pounding at the door of reality,
unrelenting, it has claws poisoned with truth.
-- my idealism again,
begging, pleading, swearing up-and-down
that I have to get out--
that there is never a “right time”--
that to change--I have to
and its not a decision this grind can consume.


I sprint through the hallways of my self
hello, again World.
It was all that I needed.
I breathe.


*(I hope this happens a thousand times again)