Till when will we be tender

You tell me in too little words that our time is limited 

Your eyes staring straight ahead while stroking my arm

To what end will I time out 

Till you lose me while talking about the now 

In limited dim lit doom who am I to assume

That you would want to whether waning weather with me

Am I so semi permanent 

Is it so easy to slip away 

Still I find myself slipping to sleep

Slumped against some warmth 

Waiting while wanting

Wilting when knowing


I want to paint my nails midnight blue

But I can’t understand why an Ab pedal is not included in the diminished triad

Someone can’t make opening night on January 25th

And the workshop attendance numbers need to be compiled

I want to paint my nails midnight blue

But I can’t seem to write my mother’s emotions fast enough

I can’t find the right rhythm in my song

I can’t stop long enough to talk

I want to paint my nails midnight blue

But I can’t stop watching gilmore girls

And then falling asleep

Waking up with the light on at 4:00am

Sleeping an hour and then starting again

The Angel of Music sings songs when I’m stressed

“I should tell you I’m disaster”

Clicking my heals down brick and papered walls

We should sing when we want to

In darkness in between doors they look at me blankly when I tell jokes 

“Stinging and older asleep on pins” 

Behind closed windowed doors

You ask me why I need to keep cranking

In your office we take deep breaths and my page is empty

“I’d forgotten how to smile until your candle burned my skin” 

Sitting in gray cars where overcast skies separate brown trees

I imagine getting T-boned 

And a C ping shocks me out of the “Bewlay Brothers” 

“Trusting desire starting to learn”

Over brown tables and blue darkness in a daylight saved morning

Orpheus is in the underworld their singing their praises, 

I can barely get them to answer my phrases

“Walking through fire (with) a burn”

“Who knows Here goes”

World War III

My mother is not dying 

But as distant brothers and sisters lose their living 

I can’t help but imagine her memory slipping

Unable to recount bad days in Burbanay

Singing songs of found peanuts in the rain


How do you reconcile being one in a million 

Shouting silently in a sea of the same 

Seeing seasons of violence but only shouting one name


 “Support us now for when your democracy falls

While we take steps to kill them all”