Where will I end up? Somewhere
Will I be lost when I get there? Lost
Where am I suppose to be? There
Will it take all that I've got? Cost
Will I know when I am there? Yes
But should I continue? Go
What will i do? Impress
Do I ever settle for less? No
Who will be there? You
And with me? New
Adventures for all the new? True
A new life that will lead to what? Pursue
Pursue things that lead me where? Home
But what should I continue to do? Roam

"Turn around!"
She wishes the rain would cut her skin to ribbons
Drawing the heel of her hand across her eyes
Gravel cuts into the soles of her bare feet
Puddles splashing under his retreating footsteps
He doesn't even pause
"Turn around!"
Repeating her plead feels like desperation
It almost is
Almost
She wills her voice not to break
"Look at me when you say it!"
He walks on
Never wavering
Icy droplets cut her until the shiver settles in her bones
Then she speaks his name
The name of her almost anonymous lover
Almost
And he stops
The rain turning his silhouette gray and defeated
Her breath catches in her throat
In the space between heartbeats she can see him touch his lips
As if remembering their last kiss
She swears he almost trembles
Almost
And she shuts her eyes
Letting him paint the backs of her eyelids one last time
"I'm so afraid."
She whispers to no one and everyone all at once
Afraid of letting him slip away
Afraid of losing her grip
When she opens her eyes  
He's gone
But then again
He was never really there

in the dark i sit
thinking about when i'll just quit
pleasing for the wrong reasons
will make the train of thought to my vision split
(sitting on this chair, alone...aware... of how bad it's been this week)
(weeping for a bit, watching videos.... trying to uplift myself without use of energy)
i feel weird tonight
out of site
everything influences, what do i cite?
laying down my weapon
i don't want to fight
i don't crave acceptance, i don't want to oppose with opinion
(whatever you stand for is nobody's business but yours)
why would you care?
to my self i must declare
to walk and talk in full aware-
ness
feel somewhat a mess
but tomorrow is a new day, i don't think i should stress
clean up my mess
maybe resist the person i pressed
unwanted thought, how does that convert to feeling less?
and everything okay when you get undressed?
i bet you ask yourself when i'll finally be my best?
in the end, it's the love or lead

Return late at night
34mph on the gangway
Decimated and tired
rotated and unstoppable

When I come back around the cul-de-sac
the green candle shines my return
Flag hangs big and ogreish
Waiting for something more

I replaced my turntable
Black and wood on wood desk
Grains matched unintentionally

On one speaker I placed my snowglobe
Big Ben tall and wide
Snow stirs when I play

On the other The Capitol
Big heavy white dome
Smaller and wider but still just as lost
Blizzard of turning particle

What mood do i turn to?
Daft and electronic
Queen of hearts and misery
Dance of mad villainy?

33.333333 repeating
An album cover to cover
slip safely in between
read the inherent vibrative tone
glide my eaten fingernail
And sing the songs through my teeth

33.33333 repeating
Songs forever maintained
Never compressed, just expressed
Saved into physical form

33.3333 repeating
Round and round Fibonacci of doom
Spiral totally in control
There is another side to this story I never knew

33.333 repeating
They were going to make movies on vinyl screens
with vinyl tape and vinyl face
Then we got cable

33.33 repeating
Mesmerized by the glide of the needle
softer than a lover's touch
sharper than an atomic clock

33.3 repeating
It will be time to flip sides
Soon I will know no evil
Only the darker satellite

33 repeating
I repeat:
Listen closely and find the spot

Queue it up and fall apart

And some might say
I've lost my way
But who are they
To judge
When numbers rule
Our nights and days
A life of Midas' touch

And all of those
Who quantify
All the good and woe
Will be too vain to realize
They are their own foe

And some might say
I've lost my way
A sentence I'd forgive
But it's the dreamer, not society
Who, the way forward, shall cleave