P

Conviction
You turned out your hand
Come on out and tally up your blessings
Hogtied
Cut throat
Business as usual
You count the hours
I can't remember the days
The dial turns backwards
Memory that becomes a bitter haze
Of what you said from yesterdays
Benedict eggs fried
Over coffee black chimes
Under Fluorescent lights
What would you find in the night?

On the back of a bow
Or some golden calf somehow
Like a god with no fool in his heart
Delicately I fall apart
Now, unto Russia
Which you got on a mind of yourself

Cut it
Cut it
Cut it out

The writing on the stall stung in the air
Wet cigarette butts with greasy hair
Lurching forward with apprehensive mid western care,
And too little in my pockets for dinner to share
Sitting on the sidewalk listening to Yes
Which in the gray of gentler eves will prove far
more than any of us could ever need; enough
I know what you mean when you said
You're better off living as a mean than an end
Don't hamper my rind my friend
Watermelon
For the ants
In time
He said

Come on out and tally up the blessings
Count the hand that's short but second guessing
The jaws and maw of more than you can ever fucking afford
It's not
Count the cost
Tie your stomach in debts of knots
And the rosary you count as lost
The summer can't come soon enough
Ear to the ground I pray your day can't come
Soon enough
Soon enough
In the bathroom shouting what's yours
At the top of your lungs
Well when the world collapses in
In another world the stars the cave
Oh the god damn stars they gave
And the god damn lives we made
Nothing in comparison we pale,
To the name