The air smells like a wood burning stove. Burly clouds around surround my house but I went on the chemical diet because I hate the weight I've gained-- so I stopped shaving, and was whisped away from drinks last night. I woke with such a horror that my voice was no longer there-- beds spun and bodies were buried in dreams that made me wish I weren't alive; so as not to see the horrible images anymore.

My life is a stream of horrible images. Terrifed to be alone for more than a few minutes. I miss the overnight job because I slept when I knew it was safe in the day.

There's a bottle of scotch whiskey somewhere in my closet, for the days when I don't feel much like living in the day or the real world. Where people smile and tell me how I will never have days like them. Their girlfriends are much too pretty, and their lives too fantastic for such a son of a nobody to pretend he's somebody.

Coke and coke and rum and more coke. I'm tired. I can't smell winter, so I'll pretend I'm back in philly, where nobody knew me. Nobody wanted to.

dazing dreaming genie
straying streaming freely
close to coasts
off the posts
of polar poles
scuffing my bootprints
until rubber burns cold

i'll sell my home
if i had nowhere to go
get up and go
but there's always somewhere to go

where my tracks will find me
drawn out on a sleeve
or a newsprint tassle
tackle agony
antagonized with depression and
subtle thoughts the recur
when they should just be buried
while no one's there

i'll sell my home
if i had nowhere to go
get up and go
get up and go

keeping tabs on a young boy
while they're spelling their name
JFK once told of
love after it was slain
kerouac is hacking the wagon while
christopher's on the train
oh, and I'll be long behind them
even if i stay

she's a breath
not to be belittled
open mouthed
is the best way
when she starts to

answer to my call
like mom and pa
had to give their blessing
or it'd all be wrong
dances on the bar
with an empty cup
all i gots a blessing and its all fucked up

she's a breath
the last ones always best
holidays
pine wreathes and
lovers on display

but ill fake
an entire night
an entrance and some christmas songs
i didn't write
yeah fake
it through and through
hark the hallow
angels won't sing to you

low cut
low blow
slow thoughts
high balls force
night caps where you're too
much to endure

show them what you're made of
show them what you've got
because I've seen you laid out
sea saws and see through tops

yeah how much
to touch
break her you bought her
how much to love
more than a daughter
I can tell your father
that you're more than just another
whore to color scarlet
water colored outfits that

wipe off wipe out
because I've seen you laid out
show them what you're made of