There are phone calls I should make
and paths I should be following
Swallow me whole and spit out
what you don’t need
Time heals wounds
no matter how gaping
even if they left you gasping
and clutching while peering
into the beyond
I am waiting for phone calls
to swallow the souls blisters
needing the liquid
and smoke
that makes it easier to say
I don’t miss her
I live with conviction
and walk with forgiveness
but I only hold hands
for as long as its worth it
A curse is only an illusion
as man made as children
who are as timid as tigers
there are lions inside of us
we try to hold fire
and get burnt
so we gathered rocks
into circles
filled it
with drift wood and branches
found flit rocks
and took our chances
chance is only a manifested
destiny with our fate is bait
and we catch the romance
of love and hate
I hear in black and white
as i feel with symphony’s
the simpatico nature
between the improvements
and refinement
I am still that kid in his basement
feeling lost
in a world to big to figure out
So i planted seeds of doubt
covered them with clout
while watering them with water
and there stems bud blossoms
of analytic empowerment
and a rose by any other name
could be diarrhea