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elevated musing

sitting in a blue flaky tube
wondering if the peels are talking
about something i should know about

a dirty mercenary sings
while Luke mugs on screen
listening to the conversation
canceling noise and meaning
i'm clear in my mind
steering my kindness

wishing for stinging obsession
naked and alive in my bed
a toe dipping into my head
needing a second pair of shades
pushing back the innocence lost

faults in all and seething still
that familiar ache wearing thin
unable to feel the skin
trying to hard to touch
the singing obsession
lit by candles

i'm keeping it to myself
Luke still struggles with two
a suburban dream
stigmata aside
my patience on needles and pins

spinning around to catch a glimpse
of that sad parade of players
serenading an empty table
the tenor stumbles
endless summer going down
fires burning hazy streaks
into a lazy sideways

my darling daydream
harmonics hanging like
notes sliding just below
perfect pitch
nobody cares

i don't hear him any more
letting my battles slide
watching Luke try to touch
a blue wall
whatever, amen

keep on talking
hearing the party late
burning up midnight oil
sagging mattress swallows
a sitting duck
how many nights can
you go without sleep?

fumbling around and rolling over
and cover with the little blonde around the corner
swinging for the fences
but the director can't save
the second act
an original sin

he's taking pictures
i'm seeing my reflection
neither are pretty
stay away from the sauna
it'll leave you less
that you started with

never outside this state of confusion
can't remember who gets the bill
living five minutes at a time
means the clock does a lot of work

steering clear of the dusted neighbors
we brew our own concoctions
beautiful plumes
drawing back
making sure it's red
before you push it down

a hazy couch is sweet relief
i've seen that iron pot before
a little water in the bottom
to keep from sticking

back to the obsession thing
no way to sustain
and why does misery connect
pop, smoke, stay down
i've been hit

a window seat
in an aisle world
the system of the doctor
a frequent flier hell
just what you need
to make you feel better

looking outside
trying to change the weather
increase the temperature
to a balmy 42
wind at my tail
see your pink disk
show down the slowdown

quick cuts trickle down fast
stabbing glass and gamma rays
burn a hole in the collective
fueling my sleeper cell

where do we go from here
where do i go from here
i don't want to hear that song again
and long for the obsession
just because i said it
doesn't make it right
getting up in the middle on the night
watching the round and round
for the fiftieth time

heading north like a fragrant bird
bouncing lively and stiffening
to another southern breeze
twang and then it's gone
roll off the tele

saint theresa once sang about florida
or some such nonsense
i lost track of who's on the corner
making money and full of trash
bold as the hollow lights
higher than the king
higher than jesus
makes you feel like it at least

nobody ever saw you the way i do
or maybe i just missed the signs
clouded by a sour act of contrition
and double crossed at the junction


This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on November 17, 2008 2:57 PM.

The previous post in this blog was firesun.

The next post in this blog is underground.

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