the cities

Artistic leanings towards the open door,
i've been wandering through paint canvases
and spelling my name with a horsehair brush
on the doorsteps of the ungrateful, of the malignant
and it frightens sensibilities, well the problem is
that you have to look within to see that who
you are is a projection on others sometimes
upon a tattered movie screen, and the trick
is to recognize who you truly are, but most
people won't because they find themselves
dreadful, or they find themselves inartistic.

But place my violin upon your brow with
its resonating chambers that lock silence
in your ears, place my pen across your wrist
because sometimes people should understand
that artistic leanings are for their benefit,
and sometimes people should understand
that artists and musicians are better left alone.

Gibberish, sweet and supple nonsense, call
me upon thine lips with subtle grace, the grace
that easily erases all that you've done.

Heliocentric spinning wheels on the top of candied towers,
eloquent helicopters losing gasoline and certain
fluctuation of uncontrollable hours, why don't
we have a nice time for once? People are too
concerned about power, it hurts them sometimes,
and I don't mean to be wishy washy but let
me tell you the truth.

lkjaslfiwe woaieur a oa oeiroiadjmn aoiuewoi a
oaiueroia nfnsaoieuiora awoieurnn ouawer u
nodasfuouera
asfi
aweriou
oauoeirn oajousad aoweiurn aouenjd
ouoeaeu noiaueoir aoiweurnajnsd

our bodies are exposed as the sky spills through our mouths