DreamscapeThe memory of your bodyNaked and glisteningContrasted under the cotton sheetsIs to recall the grandiose of the starsRetuning to the humbling innocence of newborn planetsAnd the substance of the human heartCreation at the peak of mercyA power greater than I or any manWhose genius is enough to allow him to embrace fireOr take the arm of a galaxyOr capture the heart of the universeFor reality is not seeing what you believeBelief is seeing realityAnd I am blessed
Daddy Doesn't RememberHis eyes are emptyMore complete than his heart.A day in the life of a man falling apart.Caught in a day when he was youngFighting off the tears and sadnessNow trapped in a life of horror and madnessOne day begins, as he looks in the mirrorUnable to make anything seem much clearerIn terror he grabs the gun kept near his bedWith a mess, just a mess, inside his headSuddenly, a little girl looking up into his eyesIn terror, he shoots, and she lies by him to cryHe lies on the floor, lifeless and coldWhen the little girl, about four years oldHolds his hand and smiles to say..."It's okay Daddy. I loved you anyway."
wordless things.Eternity will find us in this haze,with hollowed butts and tepid beer and allour swallowed words, and though these aching daysare dry and sooty in our mouths, we'll callthis weakness strength, and wrap our tongues aroundthe broken wheel of language. What's the wordthe word for when the words don't make a soundbut burn through bodies, hungrily unheard?The predetermined nature of our choice,this aquiescent science of our blame,builds babel towers silent with your voicewhere subway maps and fingers trace your name.In smoke-soaked silence sound has no retortthese longing hours make longer lifetimes short