good morning in the sunshine
and speckled rain on my neck line
looking for the moonshine in a Grey cloud skyline
i listen to the church bells ring hours of my time by
in fifteen minute segments pushing smoke from my throat
left to row this boat alone
back and fourth between roads
i go
from block to block down sidewalks
as my voice scratches like chalk
laying out pictures from 2nd grade stands
but look at us now
we are ash tray shells, pots and pans
i take my broken words
and wrap them in my crooked hands
lost in a simple dance of vanilla smoke in my face
trace and paste the last light of this day to this page
you might leave and ill stay
and pace away to new scenes
finding a way to write down
everything i really mean
dreaming dreams of wet paint
am i a thief or a saint
and i faint at the sight of my blood mixed with rain
my names the same sound as a collapsing roof top
broken boards and wood pop
with splintered fingers and paint chips
equipped
with all the wrong materials to build this ship
but our sly eyed style
leads us to test this mast
made from Polaroid smiles with a sail of broken glass
masking the fact this is our last chance
and forgetting to sleep.
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