Scribbles: Notes from the Dead Letter Office

The fridge is on the fritz as god plants his heart like a cactus

A beast biting, held tight with teeth and tongue
Eyes bulge red wild with saliva whipped into a froth
Cracking that epitaph in his back scalding winds blowing
A desert made of hiding places and worn out faces
Smelling rain crys out on grounds fertile with hallelujah
Sing your bird’s eye diamonds promises
Feeding the starved too quick choking with atmosphere

Photograph: Can the world see how much i love you?

Yer…driving me crazy, cause my feet don’t touch the floor.
We’ re flopping, like fished… wonder if they are gonna find us?
Lying here, dead on the floor? So stupid, with rug burns,
Haven’t I, Told you this story before?
We wrote it one evening when you said what you mean
and i asked that morning if you were just being mean

Shouting so loud to let me out
it is a funny story marked to forget
so if you got love then release it
before it dies in a cage
so long ago when I couldn’t
tell you goodbye
this, is starting… to feel
but sometimes.. I don’t to

(February 18, 2009)