Is she broken?

Do you see her
standing there
in the empty
street?

Do you hear her
crying out
for her lover's
hand?

Do you know her,
do you care?
Will you walk
away?

I heard you hadn't mentioned it

Light filters through your cage
the bars of which are window panes
The static of your television
is drowning mother's mind

Five thousand city boys
dream of taking you to town
Blaming you for their love
roses in their hands

Sit, drink, look at yourself,
hidden from the razor blade
You take your iron kerchief
and scrape away the dust

Say there, dandelion
I heard you called for me?

Hey there, little angel
I hope you're having fun.

The bridge collapsed
beneath your father
Swallowed by the darkness
of a cold New Jersey night

Settle in your carpet nightmares
lifting books to shield your eyes
As images of lovers roll
across your bedroom floor

But have you learned to look
beyond your own reflection?

Can you help but listen
to someone else's voice?

Falling in through wiretaps
Falling,
Falling...

dagger

You gave that formless hatred
the face of a mother

You shaped the consciousness
of ten thousand robots

You spoke in tongues of intrigue
to disciples

Can you live with
yourself?

Jilt

It all came together suddenly.

Red blouse, silver necklace, motorcycle.
Sunday the 31st, sometime after noon.
You laughed like the time I bought you flowers.
Everything in the room was covered with your perfume.

Car door, radio, your missing Bible.
Sunday the 31st, sometime after five.
There is no time left for words or games.
You left his condoms laying out.

The howl of winter.
Sunday the 31st, sometime after dark.
I depart from Eden one last time.
Yeah, I hope you're doing well.

hello

I love you&
want you&
know you can't be there

I see you&
feel you&
touch your cold hands

I'm sad&
I'm lonely&
I can't believe it

You're leaving,
tomorrow,
forever?

As the day grows thin

I awake from her loud snoring,
The sun blooms on the horizon.
Fog clings close to my closed window
And the sea calls to my eyelids.
Dew is sliding on my doorstep
As the daylight breaks on prisms.
She yawns sweetly to a songbird
And I mourn my broken prison.
Smoke is pouring through the kitchen
From the oven to the table.
My lover's eyes shine gently
Behind locks of flint and sable.

What if Jesus carried his cross
Across mountains to the valley
Where the lepers are the princes
Of the gutters and the alleys?
There they rule their mighty kingdom
From their thrones of ash and cinder
And their rags are robes long tattered
From a thousand long Decembers.
Could he ever cure their sadness
With the eyes that God once gave him?
Would he cry in perfect silence
Knowing none could ever save them?

So I close my empty Bible
And I wash my hands with water.
The floral patterns swirl from the
Wind that blows upon the harbor.
I then fold my palms together
As the train howls like a phantom.
A man peers from hidden mirrors
In the garden of his mansion.
The snow melts slowly on his cheeks
While he lights his ancient sorrow.
He still dreams of days long vanished
And the promise of tomorrow.

But as he climbs into his tomb
The dusk crawls in through my chimney.
She will never be my true love
But she is so warm beside me.
My bed knows no other lover;
I am faithful to my demons.
She brings only darkness with her
But she listens to my grievance.
So I lay below the altar
Where the sacrifice is offered
And I know she will unbind me
From the sins that I have suffered.

Tactical

Is it strange
being at the bottom
of a century of
lies?

When you can sit
in your asylum
and count the
steps?

Is it strange
to be alone
for all your
life?

When I can sit
behind the glass
and watch your
steps?