'Warming'

I’ve got a stapler, some tape, a phone to keep me going
A liter of water, headphones a stress ball for throwing
Got some feelings I’m tossing in a shopping cart
Walls erected over my head and round my heart
Castles for parties, pools for swimming
Words considered for the purpose of winning
I’ve got a leather belt, leather shoes and a TV
A camera that helps loved ones remember me
I’m not here all the time, mostly passing through
Trying to find a way back to you

I’m going home, to sleep, to work - repeat
There’s a lampshade to help me find my street
Windows with bars to keep strangers out
Or are they to keep the strange things in?

I can read a thousand pages a day
I can lock a thousand thoughts away
But the bars in the windows are rusted
Waiting for everything to melt away

What I want is not what I need
And what I need should not have a price tag on it

Never Met a Sidewalk I Didn't Need

Indistinct voices ask me for change
The clicking of heels and licking of lips
As thanksgiving day turkeys escape the rush
The need for more than what they need
Knives and forks on the pulse of America
She’s not a model but she’s in windows
Not of opportunity or of time either
Pigs form a line to play in her mud
And once in a while the dogs get walked too
Cracks in sidewalks are a gateway drug for dirt
For weeds to move up the totem pole
Put on suits and ties and shoes
And become as important as dandelions
Their throats turning to butter
Little kid tricks for adults on sale
1.99 bargain price marked down from infinity
Selling soap to friends

So you can vomit any thoughts onto this thing? A robot will be doing my job in about ten years. This world is a lonely place for a person like me. New York City, the land of masks of flesh. Never let your guard down, never give in to emotion or vulnerability. Empathy was never in my diet. So many questions I can't answer and feelings I can't describe or accept. I never watch television. It's allowed me to see the world for what it is, a ball of confusion (as The Temptations so eloquently noted) Most of the time I'd like to just crawl into a hole and die. In a way, I am doing that all the time.

The River

Hate. Deciding what to name something. A task in and of itself. 'Someone's River' seems appropriate enough. Describes a stream of consciousness. Creates imagery, images, imagination. Aspiring writer, filmmaker, the usual creative person without an outlet, except for the infinite abyss of the online world. Great, thought I could hold out but obviously not. here we are, introduced so indirectly, through filter upon technological filter. Hello, how are you? Can I buy a drink? A piece of your mind? We'll be in love soon enough. Here you go...

This river is swelling, refusing to follow its beaten path
Enslaving its neighboring banks
Taking them along for its ride
Feet being swept off ankles
Found months and miles away
Confusion setting in while the fishermen begin hunting instead
Not worth any of this
To live! and the cruelty of it all
So much invested in a grain of sand
Soon to be washed away with the rest of us
The river is flooding me, fueling me
Lying to me through its babbling voice
Encouraging me to jump in, to join it
To follow it to where it meets the ocean
And becomes another withered vein in its rotting corpse