so whats funnier
a joke about a stranger
reading a paper,
or writing
a joke
about a stranger
reading a joke
i'm writing
while driving,
while he's driving
and reading,
but not reading
what i'm writing

and what makes you laugh
louder and harder
my heart that pumps harder
or the head that gets less blood
or makes up more stories
and gets dizzy,
or gets less blood,
or just both,
either or, or just pretend
and wants to die so bad,
it'll do must anything
write up till the end,

and I can't say I knew exactly
when this started,
but I knew when this began
these habits
up and down
and pushing so hard
early mornings,
and i thought I'd watch the sunset
but instead I watched the swing set
by the bike rack
where we smoked cigarettes
and black stained white tarred
dope headed die rolling
dizzy no good too little learned,
and way too late now,

to tell what I thought i wanted to be,
is everything the sun sets on,
not what the sun shines on,
and my father will see the sun shine
far longer than I
but the sun shines for a little,
just don't think its a shame,
that when I close my eyes to rest,
its not because I'm passing out,
or taking it for granted,
I want every breath now,
and I wish I wasn't so selfish,
but my ways have caught the best of me,
and I just need to rest.