I’ve been waiting,
Waiting for the dream to start.
Consciously taking, and taking
My simple, little mind apart.
I’ve been bending and breaking
From poignant stares;
Hungry and salivating
For scar tissue and repairs.
Hello, sir.
Are you lost and found?
Sitting in abandoned streets
With envy for the silent ground?
For I understand, I am
The collected, construed thought,
And I beseech - I entreat you
To share your broken, decomposing thoughts.
Help me, Jesus.
I wish I could believe you Lord,
But all you are is plastic
And dancing on my dashboard.
Like I was a vagabond
Prepared to meet a face
Just to lay in slight repose,
But I never found my place.
Again, again – I question now
The reality of real,
The things I found profound,
And the things I’ll never feel
Like the men that trade beliefs.
No, I couldn’t stand to know
Some wandering, waning grief –
I’d rather stand alone.