Coolin' Down

Nimble fingers,
configure contraptions,
while crazy cats,
smoke cigarellos,
and drink homemade brew,
down by the river.

I was never one for small talk,
but they got me rollin'. 

Picture me in the lap of luxury,
dripping in opulence and filth.

Only the weak survive. 

Flittering Fancy

Little star,
do you know how bright you burn?

Soon you'll be ash
and all your troubles will be behind you.

Fly, don't flee.

Not everyone gets these wings.

Personality Crisis

Tiny little insects,
crowded in my brain,
pray for rain,
slow insane,
quicken the decay.

To be or not to be,
to have or not to hold,
to be told,
and withhold,
the betrothed,
is sold,
to a wickedly wuthering day.

I'm sick,
with this slick,
trickery.

Lovelorn,
and loss,
lessens Leviticus lies,
while shy,
spry,
and nimble lights try.

Guide me away from this entombed canal,
plagued with sick and diseased water.

I yearn to swim upstream,
through the slime and muck that weighs us down.

Whispering voices steady the boat.

Only I have the power to tip it completely.

Do I stand and deliver,
or stay and grieve?

Decisions, decisions.

Bubbles

I have been given the world and done nothing to repay it.

A fragile mind is a terrible thing to waste, if only I could surf my way to shore.

I see newness in the horizon, but my conscience weighs me down.

To know, is to love, is to hate, is to fear.