Wintry

The morning freezes out of habit
and out of sight
Students and homeless people are left behind
in this journey towards some kind of light
or maybe a little darkness to hide within
who knows, anything can be true
if we don't know where the winds lead us to

Snow could fall from the sky anytime now
but we know it won't
not on this side of the globe
So we just wait patiently for the next freezing spree
skipping appointments underneath our coats and blankets
and failing life's tests and exams doesn't sound exactly warm
but what do we know about being free
at all

Looking up at a bright sky, searching for some lost moon
or some sweet heart-warming tune
but who knows, anything can be true
if we don't know where the winds lead us to

not on this side of the globe

Observer

So it'll be a lunch break, he says
It's nearly over now
I won't scream about it when it falls
We'll meet while he's in town, he says
As if it wasn't obvious
and I won't run until they come

Violence after violence
and violent hearbeats pounding inside the car
their eyes shining for glory, their ears an open scar
watch me if I'm going too far

A year ago, tea was much cheaper
Inspiration much deeper and family members outnumbered
all of this and that, parties scared
just lead to this clutter
But not today, not during this lunch break

Love after love,
screaming out in the streets, desperately
urban animals longing for it, killing for it
waiting for the day to be
as I'm walking into this bar
watch me if I'm going too far

Observers can be dangerous
or dangerously threatened, most of the time
but taking notes on the changes over a year
should be just as innocent as a lullaby
Singing stories not to crying babies or children,
but to souls left to die
unfed of news for a year
with no one to observe in the meanwhile

Drink after drink,
and stories still unsung
while patterns are found and faces are turned
This place stinks recognition, crowded with all kinds of flood
while I smoke distracted, inhaling deeply a fallen star

This smorgasbord full of vodka and blood
watch me if I'm going too far

How could this be even possible?

Days Off

Up until my lower lip
has enough time to heal
and I'm fully recovered
You'll still be far away
in your days off (I wish they were just bluff)
when something sweet reaches where it's hurt
it hurts more and more in a bonecrushing way
But as worth it as you will be, I'll remain patient
and wait
under our champagne cascade

Distraction

An otherwise gentle sound, like the opening of a door
Explodes the shit outta my head these days
I feel like getting ashtrays
smashed into my mind
and smoke curling from my eyes
There's no way to afford any more self-damaging
Encaged in some kind of light
and avoiding dark corners late at night
for naked fear of compromise
I seem to be engaged in some kind of fight
where everybody else's taking advantage of my victory
but myself

But oh well, isn't it delusional
the way animals have been fed fine
and the moon shines down with perfect angles at my sight
if only it didn't hide from me the woods
or the whole forest on fire
burning to its core
the way animals actually choke to the density
of my desire

A street still follows down the same path
and the clock walks the same lines every day
when I'm up early in the morning, almost in sync with everything
I just don't know what lines to say
neither which play I'm acting in
Tell me once again
there are rehearsals every night
for every wild life that insists to begin
no matter how late or how thin
the path insists to grow

But oh well, isn't it delusional
or it has always been fraudulently shown
the way animals have been fed fine
and a moon shines down with perfect angles at my sight
if only it didn't hide from me the woods
or the whole forest under snow
frozen to the bone
the way animals have become raw fossils
the ice age that trapped my heart
while i strayed, distracted
from the root of the issues
drowning from the start

My winter's performance, in the nearest theater
ignored and left aside
until my fauna screams out, louder and clearer
life slipping away
but lost ain't yet the fight.

Broken String

I make briefings out of ordinary days
just to cherish every broken string
and every pent-up, strung-out emotion
that insists to suppress this brain of mine

so I just wish I had more time
to sum things up and take out a conclusion
of my red velvet hat
if only I had enough ammunition
to blow away my fears
then anything would ever get near my wardrobe
and I'd be free and full of dope
asleep for a million years

so I just dream of a late meal
and I'm still looking for death's phone number
maybe this time we'll make a deal
if she agrees to spend some misplaced vacation out in the woods
my money's short, but I know I could still
buy us some goods
and have a pretty fun time
no drugs or rain checks
only our squirrel friends in line

then I'd pretend to play your warm guitar
as well as mrs. DiFranco ever dreamed of
but death has killer memory to realize, so far
I can't recall the lyrics to your favorite song
so I'll just leave this camp of loneliness
and ride the wind back to my bed
still don't you tell me I'm a mess
just because I'm sad
in the end, home is what I always had

And I still make briefings of situations insane
shooting at the sky and hoping to murder a star
as long as I can't break any string
out of your warm guitar.

Short Trip

inhale
you
i do
oxygen
in my brain
true
is the dizzy way I feel
and for the seconds
the smoke still hangs
in the midst of us
i need you, for now
and for as long as it ever costs
breathing in
breathing out