ah, but then time re-convinces me

the littlest
amplitude
of tiny blows on sundays
it's steady
and it worsens
to the end of every week
till it's blinding
lights are shining
and the room becomes "camera obscura"
all upside down
but crystal clear
i won't admit that it's worse here
the music i listen to now
all about jesus
yet i can't find it in me to believe it
and every time i go offline
a certian plane lands again
i refuse to believe
so i blame it on coincidence

though i remain unconvinced

i've had enough,
said enough,
felt enough
i'm fine now.

what are you running from? taking pills to get along. creating walls to call your own, so no one catches you drifting off.

ah what a day today will be
all the things that mean so much to me
see i've got new music
'cause i've been waiting about a year
i even got some tracks down
ones that i don't hate
i don't hate myself for writing them
and the songs, oh the songs
starting to tear up
take what you want
but i won't
no, i can't
i could be hell, or worse
a secret mistake
cold wind in the face
so glad i've replaced
-the irreplaceable

doing favors
overtime
but i'm floating on so much now
so i don't even really mind

got so much writing to do
and a money flow
no debts i owe
i don't owe anybody anything
it's the smallest things
pad of paper you packed just in case
i'm writing fucking symphonies in moleskin's and blackberries
and BAM, there's one day without the milligrams
bar graphs wouldn't do it right
so line graphs show these fickle times
anywhere from 5 to 30 in the bad days and the worse
i keep telling myself
that this would happen
i knew it from the start
even the youngest days
the most innocent, unassuming days
always looming in the mind
always looming, back of mind
i used to think about how it would play out
a tragic comedy
one where we all die
or maybe just me
in the play i saw strained and fake keiastionships
so i stopped right there
there was nothing new
why'd you have to do what you always do?

you lose
you lose

the other day i saw a lady
a lady and her baby
not in a stroller,
rather,
walking sidewalks, holding
it was 10 30 or almost 11 00
and it was cold outside
real blurry
could've been the things in my bloodstream
with it rushing every which way and how
my heart is hurting
then again it really isn't my heart
more so the tissue surrounding
but hell
it hurts just the same
all the muscles livid
at how the lady was still walking
in the moon and all of time
so i got up and went the way they had come
my feet hit the floor running

tired
a work and carly says
"it's all in your head"
gen's laughing, joking, mocking
even karen see's the logistics in things
and how it's all completed so well
all in the strides towards "mental-er" stability

so it's the real rich
and the real poor
who learn to drive stick
regardless of this
i'm still waiting for the first money
a pay off for all that i've done

what's up movement?
i can't control and i can't confess my fear
don't, don't,
everybody has a reason
you cut me off too young
messed up, am i moving?
i can control, but i can't predict my years

certain tragedy when we started off
lessons that i'm learning, i have the world suspended in my hands

with progress we forget
and it's such a sudden tragedy

hey
wishin', listen
look out for me slippin'
i'm switchin' on a steady course

i have shut down generations
i'm lost in the haze of these apathy days
when everyone falls into segregation
but we need someone to blame
'cause the problems remain
-when everyone falls

my heart hurts
but i ain't in love!
i think it's a mix
of these energy drinks
and tamp down pills

my heart is beating faster
yet slower at the same time
till it finds the in between
but isn't that what i would have started with?
so i drew out drafts and blueprints
sorted shelves of notes and their notebooks
re-read my book

but no
there's a difference
for without the fake drugs and sedatives
and without the real drugs, the real real bad drugs
i wouldn't be relying on anything
and i don't know what i'd do if i didn't have that
it's just a delusional reliance on personificated medication

yeah, you're right
i saw it straight through
and all, ALL because,
you do what you always do

neoclassicism and romanticism

on the bus
reading the paper
the signs match up and i'm raising hell here
how could they be walking anywhere?
and why would that be important to me?
but they're walking around
calming their nerves
while i'm sitting at home
wondering why i needed to know
wish i never read it at all
so fuck that
i lied
they'll never synch up

it's in the notion
of the short script
a box so big is pushed in
full of everything, to the brim
then comes along the long run
and the end result?
a cube
about the size of sugar
the ones from church
in those boxes
but i guess you never knew
it's flicked from it's residing pillar
even before it hits the ground;
it's powder
god, it makes me wonder
just what your shoving up your nose these days

but shit
i've got like 50 french poems to read by 6:30
gotta read all the translations
so how can it come back to it?
how can it remind me here?
i've got to get to school
i've got other things to do
got to read the readings
because you don't know what i know
you don't think i know what you know
almost exactly what you've always done and thought

so how will i do this?
how will i tell you exactly the way it is?
a fight always present on the sidelines
out of the ring, out of the limelight

we used to have 1-2-3 living
the 2's and 1's becoming frequent
till 1's are all you have
and even then
when everyone important packs up and goes
for days on end, so bored of this
but you charge ahead like you are fine
till really, really you ARE fine!
but that "till you are" line
was so hard find
like a mirror you're reflective
i gotta admit
i feel it's all coincidence
and no real timing here at all
i had delusions that i should start writing plays
in my dreams, every line, every curtain climb
played out with emphasis and memory
end scene
but no one's really listening

so 1's become the same old quotes
2's are small ideas and anticipation tokes
but it's 3's when i'm really soaring high
then maybe skipping days
early, early mornings are the worst treachery of time
turn the tv on
to see the same news headlines
all of the time
and then i'm running on empty
here,
here's me
me running on empty

see the 1's are the days when i've forgot
2's are the one's where i'm no quite grasping at the perfect balance
3's mean that i'm trying again and still really, badly, wondering
for a shorter moment in the seconds and minutes
getting shorter each time

because it was always so fair here in the mornings
after learning new words through daily indifferent education
and small hours of tomorrow thrive on old sorrows
but really, who remembers?
it was this huge blow
but i kept going
seeking closure, never getting
so i'm here now
care explaining?
my resolution forces me ever forward
it's only my weak side who's running back

they knew, they knew that this would happen

i remember this

this isn't disconcerting,
- it's fake.
so it's not really happening.

He said
"remember, you're tired"
i admitted i was
but i had to write shit down

i'm planning the laughing and cutting edge reality at the end of the song
because there once was i time when i did nothing wrong

safely in houses
we break all the rules
all the things
all the things
that you would need to do

evanescent interest here, in me
and i don't know which way to be

so should i just sit here and keep talking
or should i just sit here and delete everything
it goes both ways in my mind

i wake from my dreams
check the mail
go online
except i never really go online
i never try to calculate the times
5, 10, 20 whatever
i've got things to do
recording's a mess
trying to get the songs down pat
but they keep asking to be changed
in case people take them the wrong way
and i can't have that
i'm so at peace with the fact that they will go semi prime time
in a week or so
i'm so peaceful
reading les fleurs du mal
progress is a thing of the past
now it's all predictable
i can tell you exactly what i'm doing in 2 weeks
i wrote a book of non fiction
though some would argue i made it all up
so now i'm writing fiction
it's SO the place to be
i can pretend that i'm dreaming all the time
and my dreams make it to paper
how fucked up will i make them?

drafts:

8/20/08

i always wondered about your face
where do you sit and wait?
and do you think you're playing games?

spinning round like a dancer's neck
flowing slightly, staying up right
i don't turn the computer on at night

8/21/08

it's all in the songs that you'll never hear
you've returned to me
but you're never near

maybe it's all the same
but it couldn't be anything else
no it's never anything else

8/24/08

i want to translate the story
explain the upheaval
no control
for i've never had any control
every time it rains
days of grey
holding back the mind

when you wake do you check the weather?
so many people
but i blame myself

8/26/08

it's all because you were not strong enough

9/9/08

looking for reasons to bring up the name
but what isn't known is that the names are the same
i make a little mention about the dates and the times
i made a little slip up of the fate and the chances
but i remember how it used to hurt
'cause it used to hurt me so bad
now you're walking sideways
through parking lots
out of safety
out of line

because for living just down the street
i sure as hell see you less then all the other people i meet
the difference is i never want to run into them
i have nothing to say, nothing planned

but for you i'd have words
written down in a book and when you never thought i was writing
well i WAS
i was walking around past the end of our block
thinking "should i just give in?"
set the swing and hear the noise
walk into your backyard and forget all the ploys against me
the ones only just outside the yard

i'm drafting this

to hell with your new shit
and whether or not you think you fit in

i wake up with nothing on my mind
i get on with things
i move up and accomplish things
but then i go downstairs on my computer
i see all the music i found the night before
i try to run away, get away
but no
i get lost and the hours start flying by once again

i imagine myself on fast forward
leaving the setting
mild expression changes
all through the day

hot cold season gonna sink in my sweat
no one is ever gonna make it there yet
can't even cope with it
then it passed me by

fast slow living is holding me back
wishing that you never ever told me that
can't even cope to make it last
then it passed me by

lost all reason for playing these games
better quit staring 'cause you're looking the same
can't even cope to make a change
then it passed you by

i guess the winter will make you laugh a little slower, make you talk a little lower about the things you could not show. it's going to be a long december and there's reasons to believe, that maybe this next year will be better than the last. so, please forgive what i have done. no, you can't stay mad at the setting sun. 'cause we all get tired, i mean eventually, there is nothing left to do but sleep.

the months, though spread out
total about a year or so
a year i wasn't around
it was recorded that i felt empty at times
but did ya know what i found?
a certain place, here on the web
with so many weaker faces
persuasion faces
people at the brink with white flags
sometimes they're barely waving
but most times they're walking slowly,
blindly
looking up
asking about and about and about
asking me questions as if i would know all the answers
but i found that i actually knew all the answers
each question studied,
drafted, and answered
i found myself educated
on how i got past the worst
and oh their reply's
yeah you should SEE their reply's
they say thank you
you've helped me
sometimes i've changed their mind
to anticipate the future times
that were still coming

the thesis of this story:
i thought the upper hand of control was based in one place
but it's really all around me and my second chance has me laughing sideways

today you said you heard my song
and that it made you weak
but then it made you strong
'cause here i am, with open arms
i'll lift you up again
when you fly back in late winter

i was worried
the town you live in is so behind
and where you're staying
will they have phones?
i need them to have phones

but they have phones and internet
i've yet to calculate the time difference
but they set you up
your in school now, on time
you're happier, but you'll never call it home

because bottom line your texts were KILLING me
thousands and thousands of miles away from me
and i couldn't do anything to help
we couldn't just talk it out
like normal

this will be hard, you see
because i tend to work on weekends
and when i'm done
you're out, you see
these weekends still separate your life
and i'm honestly just too tired
but the middle of the week
when i'm up and wired
your sleeping
because you have to wake up early
it's 2 am and i've got nothing to do at all
i'm so fucked and high
with no reason at all

photographs only in black and white
colour doesn't get me like it used to
something about missing miami
it's waters were so damn blue
so i have to be more interested
in the grey scale of the north
and the winter that it's bringing me
otherwise i'll go crazy
the contrast and the midtones
the hue makes everything so seem so unhealthy
so does saturation
so fuck all saturation

i predict that i'll go back
and that i'll have to leave again
it's so hard to get up to go
when you get up
only to be seated once again
and forced for 5 hours
to think about your decision
of coming home again
even though you only wanted to stay right there

THE PLOT OF EVERY STORY LINE I PITCH
SOMEHOW ENDS UP ON THAT FUCKING PENINSULA

jettisoned to the center of the storm

encumber me no longer
encumber me no more

if you do what you've always done, you will get what you've always got.

a thousand suns have set

The Lottery Song
By Moira Ness

11, 18, 23, 22, 35, 38

Lift off. Those were the numbers. The beautiful, crystal clear numbers. The officially official numbers. The winning lottery numbers.

And they were my numbers.

Day 1

Last night I slept on the couch. I was holding the ticket when the TV personality announced the numbers. I held onto the ticket as the numbers appeared silently on the screen. I stared at the ticket, x-rayed the ticket. I kissed the ticket. I fell asleep clutching the ticket. I slept much better last night then I had in months.

The first thing I had to do was make sure this wasn’t one big joke. I washed my face - stared at my face - as my computer beeped on. I went to the website listed on the back of the ticket and I finally saw. It was the numbers again, all there, all in order. All in line. I sang out in a lottery song bliss. The math was all calculated for me and I finally realized how much money I really had.

$39,753,331.26

That’s thirty-nine million seven hundred fifty-three thousand three hundred thirty-one dollars and twenty-six cents. Twenty-six cents! Ha! I stared at the computer screen for the rest of the day and long into the night. I was on appear offline and I saw all the people sign in and out. I felt like I never wanted to talk to any of them again.

Day 2

I needed to call someone. I needed to tell someone. I had 39 million things to explain and I had no idea where to start. But the way I see it, there are no people in my life who are ready to listen. I have my doubts in each of them and I fear they would take advantage of my “good fortune” without even the slightest second thought. I needed to tell someone who would think about what I should do before they thought about how much money I might give them. Maybe I’m being paranoid? I wondered about what would happen to my life once people found out I had all this money. I wondered if going to the corner store would evolve into a total drawn out activity, with security guards, paparazzi and police. Then again, I had only won the lottery. I was still the same person I was yesterday. I just had a lot more money now. Right? Warning signs and fear were seeping into my conscious. But would this really change me? Would it?

I looked outside at all the people walking around on the street below my apartment. Suddenly I didn’t feel quite at home. I no longer found life on this 18th floor. So this was the day, I was cold, smoking on my balcony. A light shone down and I realized I needed to leave. Not just out of the area, but out of the country, maybe the even the continent. I thought some more and settled on Miami. I looked past the skyscrapers on my horizon. Surprisingly I wasn’t scared when I felt my eyes light up with the colour green. It was just the glaze of dollar signs, swimming about in my head.

Day 3

I still haven’t phoned anyone. I’ve actually had no human contact in 3 days. Though I did hear there is a new lottery now. New tickets on sale. Apparently the jackpot prize hadn’t been claimed yet, even though the winning ticket had indeed been sold. This reminded me I hadn’t even gotten the money yet. Tomorrow then. I get all my money tomorrow.

I looked at my phone for most of the night. No one called. I called no one. Each number I had in my head never made it onto the keyboard.

Day 4

I walked downtown. It took me most of the day, but I was now walking at the bottom of the same skyscrapers I always stared at from my balcony. The building with the lottery ticket logo was just ahead and I walked in.

I told the lady at the front desk my situation. In hushed voices she conversed with the telephone. Darting eyes. I wondered, was it always like this? Where was all the confetti and photographers? I felt awkward and out of place. After awhile the same lady lead me upstairs to a big office. I noticed the backdrop where they take the pictures of the “oversized check” holders. I sat down at a table with far too many chairs. I couldn’t imagine this room full for some reason. It smelt too clean, almost as if no one had ever used it. A man in a suit walked in and sat down facing me. He explained that he needed to see the ticket, and some I.D in order to verify that I was actually the winner. I gave the required papers to him and he left the room while comparing my ticket to a piece of foolscap.

The TV hanging on the wall was tuned on the weather channel. It was 86 degree’s in Miami. This made me remember the night breeze. It made me recall the Pier and the ports and everything single Sunshine Highway toll booth in between. I saw St. Petersburg and Tampa. Treasure Island and Fort Soto. If I looked hard enough I even saw Los Angeles and Fairfield, but they seemed so much further. The green in my eyes burned so much brighter then. The man in the suit came back and sat in the same chair. He smiled weakly, handed me a normal sized check and said, “Congratulations, you just won the lottery.” And so, I signed all the papers in a euphoric blur.

Day 5

After the lottery building the day before, the “bank trip” was looming in my future. I dragged myself out of my apartment and to my bank across the street at the local strip mall. A man with a huge smile called me to his desk. I explained to him in a low tone about how I had won the lottery and needed advice and assistance on opening a new account with the proper settings and options. I immediately saw the green flare in his eyes. It died down before he invited me into his corner office. He explained to me my choices and we basically planned out my next few months. I told him about Miami and the BMW I wanted. He said he understood completely and would arrange for a dealer to contact me when I arrived there. The thing is he didn’t understand at all but I was totally okay with that. I also told him to open three smaller accounts only accessible one way, all with different cards. A monthly maximum withdrawal was set. I got three papers, three cards and three pin numbers. I wrote names on the top of each paper.

Day 6

The bank man recommended a financial planner and I saw her the next day. She was asking me what I wanted. She asked me what my opinion was. Suddenly what I had to say mattered. It felt different. I crossed my legs. She asked me when I wanted to leave. I said A.S.A.P. She said tomorrow. I said yes. I didn’t own much and I didn’t want to keep much of what I owned so I really had nothing to pack except clothes and books. I sat at home a few hours later, deciding whether I’d tell my tenant about my sudden departure or not. I was going to give her this months rent even though it was only the 6th. I finally figured it was less of a hassle to just leave, because I guess I didn’t really care either way.

The last night in my hometown. I had moved out of the area I grew up in a year after highschool. I rarely returned. But that night I rented a car and drove to back to my childhood. The streets still felt the same. I saw cross walks I had crossed. I used to walk down the middle of these streets at 3 am. I drove past houses I used to exist in. I named out all the streets, driveways and mail boxes. Then there were the stores I spent so much time in, wasted SO much time in. I noticed that they had changed. I brought a different perspective now, as I drove by. The last thing I did before I left for the airport was speed down that strip of highway between Dundas and Cloverdale Mall. I went as fast as that shitty rental car would go. I WANTED that feeling I used to get when I sped here before, years before, when I was totally fucked out of my mind on life and drugs. I WANTED my highschool friends to be beside me right now, smoking cigarettes just to get us by. I WANTED to change the song, the station, find all the files and remember which meant what to whoever. I wanted to remember all the meanings I used to find in my music.

But I found I couldn’t go fast enough. I had finally swept myself away. I kept going straight down the 401 to the airport. Planes were landing overhead as I drove and the sound that blasted by after scared me. I suddenly wanted to feel warm. I wanted to take pictures of palm trees and beaches. I wanted a new car, a new house and a new life. I felt like a force was pulling me towards the terminals. I just COULDN’T begin to miss this place yet. I griped the wheel, tears doing the backstroke in my eyes. I was parking when I tried to sing along to every word of the song. I even found myself changing the words around inside my head.

“Do you want to fall apart?
I can’t stop if you can’t start.
Do you want to fall apart?
I could if you can try to fix what I've undone,
‘Cause I hate what I've become.

You know me, oh you think you do, you just don't seem to see,
That I've been waiting all this time to be something I can't define.
So let's cause a scene, clap our hands and stomp our feet or something,
Yeah something, I've just got to get myself over me.

I could stand to do without, all the people I have left behind.
What's the point of going around when it's a straight line maybe, a straight line down?
So let's make a list of who I need and it's not much if anything.
Let's make a list of who I need and I'll throw it away,
'Cause I don't need anyone, no I don't need anyone.

You know the night life is just not for me,
'Cause all you really need are a few good friends.
I don't want to go out and be on my own,
You know they started something I can't stand.
You leave for the city,
Well count me out,
'Cause all this time is wasted on everything I've done.”

Day 7

I spent today flying and sleeping. When I got off the plane I smelt flowers. When I got off the plane it felt so humid. When I got off the plane I changed my name. I was so busy tampering with everything to do with me, nobody even knew I was in Miami.
Day 8

I got a temporary suite at the hotel closest to my newly assigned real estate agent. It still boggled my mind how everything was arranged for me. The BMW agent even picked me up from the airport. We were discussing models and he said he had an X3 in just the colour I had described. I figured he’d have something if I was willing to pay the money. When I was up in my room(more like a fully furnished luxury loft) I called the number of the real estate agent and made arrangements to meet the following day. I watched the real estate channel all night on my hotel TV.

Day 9

I looked at houses in the morning around Miami and drove to St. Pete’s in the afternoon. My new X3 was everything I thought it would be. I was living within the cliché that money and cars brought happiness. I knew it didn’t, I’d seen it all my life. But right then and there I felt like I was on top of the entire world. I felt like everyone would understand me, or rather they were able to, if I were just to speak. But I wouldn’t speak of it. I wouldn’t hear of speaking of it.

Day 10

For the past 2 days I had woken up at 7. I’d watch the local news, though it meant very little to me. I’d take a shower. I’d grab a coffee, realize that I didn’t even like coffee and then buy something else instead.

I knew I had been avoiding many, many things. I had people to call. I had papers to order and sign and send off. I really wasn’t even legally living in the states yet. I looked through my cell phone and wrote out the numbers I needed to call on a pad of hotel paper. I doodled around their names and digits. I procrastinated. I watched cartoons. I watched shows and episodes that I’d seen a hundred times before. I found a sort of fleeting comfort in this. I ordered the most expensive dinner I could and barely touched it. I found this need to experience this and things like it. I only spent the money because I felt I had to. I figured this feeling would lessen in later days.

That night when I was sitting on my bed looking at the hotel phone I had this mini “epiphany”. I brought out my cell phone again and turned it on. I added another number to the list and crossed out the rest. The dial tone droned as I typed in the numbers. I was stressing out so much that I was shaking and shuddering. When they picked up and sounded happy it made everything just start again. I tried to sound happy too as I explained everything. They were silent for a second and then they said they really missed me and wished I hadn’t left so soon. They asked how other people had reacted and I lied and said they were all happy for me. They asked about the weather and the palm trees and the storm I’d be getting soon. I just listened to them talk. I asked gingerly about “The City” and they told me all about the people I had purposely left behind. They talked and talked and I heard absolutely nothing but trumpets and voices singing.

I didn’t think I would have found salvation in a phone call, but I did that night. With a single faith restored I told them to arrange to come to Florida and that I’d pay for everything. And then suddenly I had to go. I had more things to do. I was circling the number over and over. I was crossing out the other numbers over and over. I drove to the pier, went to the top floor and threw my cell phone as far as I could into the ocean below.

Day 11

The green burns in anyone’s eyes that finds out my situation. I barely notice it now, but it’s always with me. I’m always aware y’know? Now all this time I had been thinking about myself. I saw now how easy it was to get caught up in the green. I came to the conclusion that could never even begin to spend all my money, so I started thinking about charities and organizations to possibly donate to. Maybe giving away some of my money would make me feel better about myself. Isn’t that the underlying reason people do it? Or is it because they did something, sometime in their life and now they feel guilty about it. Giving money away lessens the pain inside them.

Day 12

I’ve never known how to explain the stages in my life. I come to conclusions over time and label them, mockingly. An example of this was how I was busy writing 3 letters this morning. I had “no voice” left for these people. I wrote out the lists and reasons. Directionless letters. I couldn’t yet consider what I was doing to be charity. I put in the debit cards and sealed the envelopes. The adhesive tasted sour.

Now what did this look like? It seemed as though I was paying these people to stay out of my life. But really I knew I’d never see them again so I apologized in the letters for my hasty departure and explained that I probably owed them money anyways and just to accept the card. I gave them no contact information or return address.

Occasionally in the years to come I wondered if my cell phone ever rang at the bottom of the ocean. I can even remember the song it played. And I can really remember the relief it used to create.

Day 13

Lying on my hotel bed I started to feel like I was clawing at the edge of safety. Trying to push past it. Trying to weave around it.

So tomorrow, I thought, I’d do something good tomorrow. I’d get outside tomorrow. I’d go buy a new guitar and write a song tomorrow. Feverishly, I felt myself starting to fall apart. I knew this path, I’d been down it most my life. It was the procrastination factor. Tomorrow, always tomorrow. It would get better tomorrow. I hated the rest of that night. It was just so hard to sit and wait, my good intentions lingering. Knowing I couldn’t do anything about anything till tomorrow. Letting the anticipation eat me alive.

It was 11:59 and then it was 12:00. Tomorrow was here. Tomorrow had come. But why was it so silent? Why was it so somber?

Day 14

It was 2 am when I heard the knock on my door. I looked at the time and couldn’t think of who it could be, especially at this late hour. I looked through the door and out into the hotel corridor.

If I could ever slow down a moment in my life and exist in it for the rest of my days, it’d be this one. My brow, once furrowed with the constant stress of money, now fell, relaxed. The black in my eyes faded and my stare softened. My iris’ exploded in all the glorious colour’s of the rainbow. My eyebrows that were angry all the time were now at ease. A wind blew through the hotel and I had to hold on tight to the door, my eye still up against the looking glass. It rained. The sun shone. There was hail and sleet. All the seasons, all the disasters, everything. The trees were on fast forward. Bare limbs to spring buds to leafy green to all the colours of fall. I suddenly saw through the eyeglass a bunch of people in black and white beside the person who was waiting for me. All the people of my past. Walking in and out of focus. Looking straight at me, with eye contact and everything. I scrambled with the chain lock and swung the door open. Lights shone down from above and doves flew to freedom in the backdrop. In reality there was only one person and one reason though.

They came in and said:
“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

I said:
“I…I wasn’t sure you’d ever find me again.”

Epilogue

It took me 14 days after winning the lottery jackpot to finally smile. Not laughing out loud or pretending, but really, really smiling. A smile that was pure and beneficial. A smile that was a remedy and a reason all at the same time. This smile shone through tinted windows. It captured the feeling of bliss every time I happened to look up into the sky.

On Day 11, a homeless lady told me that she’d send the angels of “demolition” to break down the walls I had built up around myself. I went back to her and thanked her over and over again because the walls lay in ruins days later. I could talk out loud and walk around the city. I could sing again and write again. I could love and live again, for I had been rescued. I held onto life so tightly. So very, very tightly and I never let go.

i'm trying to stay upstairs
because i get lost down in the basement
cooler air
frosty floors
the seasons go from cold to colder
i'm always so busy writing
it's all so disconnected
i've got all these ideas and i...
i need to get them into the computer
even if that means no sleep

they said they saw me in the dark one night
pitch black except for the screen
3 am
i didn't resist removal
but my head hits the pillow and i stared
at the clock across the room
at the painting on the wall
out the window to see your plane
flying around, away from here
you're reading the story i wrote and as i'm writing this
letters, i thought, could ONLY be directionless

i was walk, walk, walking
down the street towards the bank
past the street where you used to ask
past the house where you would say
"i wonder what she thinks of this?
i wonder if she sees?
i wonder if she's looking out
and typing numbers just the same?"

but i don't think she's typing anything
and i know for a fact that she's blind
i also know she's been drivin' in circles
and she'll be driving them for all of time

but bring us back down to the letters
i couldn't read them out
i couldn't try
so i lied and got on with life
i went to my job and no one saw in my eyes
but i saw her in other's eyes
even heard her name upon their lips
and i saw you on a screen, so very far away from me
and we're not talking hours here
we're talking days and weeks

they've got thier brand new friends
and i've got a few new songs
but mostly new headaches
and reasons not to call