Webster, east west

The sign on the street corner served as a warning
To the leaves that rustled by the empty grey reflection.
The leaves can't stop though, and drift by, indifferent
The gunmetal post seems quite perturbed by this casual defiance.

A sin this writing! Screamed the editor!
He tore the pages limb from limb and vomited.
Mostly because of the limbs that were now in either hand
The words smokily curled in his head, and he lost all memories.
He was much like a sad teacher grieving with friendly remorse.

Lie down.

Can I lie down now? Can I sleep, finally? Rest my broken head against a pillow.
It was a bad choice I decided, To end this night on things untried.
Not true, but more or less a picture of the life I never knew.
That I never want to know.
What about you?

20,000

You know that when you can't breathe fresh air anymore,
You have a major malfunction of the senses
And begin to make nonsense
Spinning out of control and making sparks and noises
Berths, wide. Blowing balloons
Perking V- Rockets off the moon and sparking fires
Buffoon
The ears itch, the head hurts, and the mind cannot contain the relentless energy anymore
I hear, everything. Shoulders tense, back hurts now. Please
Let this be over soon

She was a fire serpent on a higher level.
I worked hard for her favor, but made mistake after mistake
And that is why, here I am a broken man
Leave me to my fate without a delay

You don't understand what I mean when I say
Never bring a gallon of water to a dance party
And never, whatever you do never hold back
Life is to short, and it doesn't wait for the tardy

It's not enough that one man can make or break another
It's that I can't stop to take a break in this whirlwind of a storm
And I don't feel even the slightest bit tired, my friend
It's just annoying that I can't just hit it and quit it.

But each wave subsides slightly, cerebral, click clack, click clack
I have to keep thinking in this seaweed infested work of a pond.
Otherwise I won't stop to breathe. Which is a lot of thought in itself, mind you.
Focus on the fuzz, blur the sharp, and bring Favio back from the dark.
The word on the street is that I made bail
But I feel hyped and sly as a snail.

No one ever made hay out of such a strong hand
Holding out my plans to unsuspecting grunts,
Cows and general people that cannot hold back their grief
To see the sight of Paul, dancing on a stage
White whale, macrophage.

No one ever thought that I could be as hurried as a porcupine
Worried I strode down the gusty boards on an august day
The sand was impeccable. I said it once.
The sand was impeccable.
No gravy could ever have washed away these stains,
This dirt
This pain that I feel deep inside.
I want to know what the end is. I want to know where you are exactly
in this picture this punctured picture
But when I'm inside the room it's small and clean
I must type for lack of sleep.
So much on the mind, but really nothing.

I just ran for a mile. I felt nothing
I ran a mile. I felt nothing
I wrote this work. I could not stop.
I felt nothing
It's three o clock, I feel nothing

I branded myself, I feeler.
You branded yourself with thought, perhaps the most thought of all.
Pray tell, do you like the beach?
Do you like the boards where streeters creep?
Do you like the way they yearn and moan for cash and beer and methadone?
I have no part in it. My head is a canvas
My face a screen. Which menu will you choose?
For from far and near everyone comes to make hay of facts both near and small.
Small and near. The plans have come to fruition
Let me make myself clear.

I was born in two thousand 8
I wrote this in 2009. And you were there for my graduation.
I am calm as a racehorse in the starting cage.
You have the whip
rage.