Stream
A busted word is a thing to behold,
Like a wrong note
But purer.

The words that fall from my open mouth
These days
Seem to crack in their flight
And lay broken on the ground.

Though overlooked,
I couldn't go on without stopping
To glue the pieces together.

To form something new and more beautiful.
Like a bird with three wings.
Like two red bodied suns.

But truthfully
Spelling was never important anyway,
Because words are something you feel.

They�re made up of light,
Not letters,
And they run through me like rivers of gold

Broken,
But still flowing.

Fall Away, Part IV
It has come to this.
And I picture the warrior
With every medal,
Every revenge
Every death.

The new day, inevitable,
When the point comes
That it will never be enough.
All of it
Any of it
It never was.
And suddenly it all falls away.

Perhaps into the sand with a blood tipped sword.
Or picture a kneeling figure in a field of dead.
A dead corpse itself.
Or the sobbing child witnessed from afar.
But no.
What I like best is the shipwreck.

The horrible carnage floating away,
Softly,
In the fizzing sea salt.
And the background holds the sole survivor,
Crawling onto the beach.

All the wealth,
All the honor,
Like grains of sand.
Like broken armor, unneeded.
Like evaporated tears, unspilled.
Like a spinning clock tower,
With limp hands
It falls.

Oh mercy,
It all falls away.
Oh for the beauty
For the dead.

It is gone.

Where Does It Go?
Every pair of shoes you ever wear?
Your soap bottles?
Your rakes?
CDs?
Old computers?
Pens?
Sweaters?
Mattresses?
Cars?

I see all these things before they disappear,
But then I�m left wondering.

When the next trend comes,
When it runs out,
Breaks,
Skips,
Becomes outdated,
Runs dry,
Gets a hole,
Gets too small,
Gets too rusty,

What do you do with it?
What do I?
And I am left with one wandering question.

Where does it go?
Where does it all go.

Random
And I was like,
Just call me the Queen.

You�ll like it,
Everyone else does.

Why am I the only one?
It saddens me,

That somebody once told me
Every thought I have has already been thought before.

What do I do with that?
Stop thinking?

Go buy some clothes
To go with it?

Sit up all night alone?
Whistling a relentless old tune?

Or over myself in fur
And run around barking?

I guess I�ve loved before,
Why do you ask?

Are you like me?
Hanging onto the red coattails of desire?

Or are you like the Queen?
Shinning your flashlight into the bottomless dark.

Tune
I know the story,
Of course.
I�ve lived it myself.

And how cute it is.
The little boy in the cinema
Who has to leave
Because he just can�t stop singing.

I have to laugh,
As this is my story as well.

How many times?
Like a shadow unknown
Have I slipped into a bathroom stall,
And felt it bubbling up inside me.

A note so highly tuned it could not only shatter glass,
But me as well.

And in links of colors and wind
The words come soaring out of me.
How many times?
I�ve clapped my hands over my mouth
To stifle the sound.
Because I just can�t stop singing.

Like a river of light
It pours from me
And it stops only when it is done.

So I find myself glowing
Just like the sun.