over to the shoulder.

halfway between sleep and the beach
thoughts drift to needs left unfulfilled
made greater by perfect words and better timing
nontraditional in the conventional sense
confusion raging through veins faster than white cells multiply
the space between the stone and the setting, cage.
the space between the canal and the mountains, distance.
bruised and beaten, no beauty on the outside.
mirrors suck the soul out so they're covered and crossed.
tape the stories together like a storybook from a toxic rain,
watch death come to me with the first bit of scotch.
greendale wasn't perfect but the steps up don't equate to those
fallen down on the path to self-destruction.
rumors from a past littered with truth
scared of mixing that with this, oil and water;
a child's tornado: just add food coloring to make it blue.
eternal corruption may be the curse of this path i've chosen
no time to look back, no reason to question.
paths crossed like oregon trail,
only i'm the indian and you're the settler - smallpox wiped me out.
spineless because i can't do this on my own
tried too much, can't do it all anymore, done it all before
stand tall on my own, crumble because these bones are old.
a ghost-dance with the past, no desire to two-step.
need to go west, start afresh, fall for something new
cold feet, wrapped in layers; intimidated by possibilities.
hope for the future in strange ways, engulfed in rancid news
curious of the other side; how bout them apples
eyes watering, legit; heart hurt, unreasonable.
muttering words you'll never hear for my own well being
twenty-two legs, twelve eyes; pulsating like a flame
separation of heart and mind because there is no other way.
in over mind control, never had control over the yellows and reds,
watch them seep in between the blinds.
this was once a paradise.