I Am Mine

This one's for you.
You know who you are.


The selfish, they're all standing in line
Faithing and hoping to buy themselves time
Me, I figure, as each breath goes by
I only know my mind

North is to South what the clock is to time
There's East and there's West and there's everywhere life
I know I was born and I know that I'll die
The in-between is mine
I am mine

And the feeling, it gets left behind
All the innocence, lost at one time
Significant, behind the eyes
There's no need to hide
We're safe tonight

The ocean is full 'cause everyone's cryin'
The Full Moon is looking for friends at high tide
The sorrow grows bigger when the sorrow's denied
I only know my mind
I am mine

And the meaning, it gets left behind
All the innocents lost at one time
Significant, behind the eyes
There's no need to hid
We're safe tonight

And the feelings that get left behind
All the innocence broken with lies
Significance, between the lines
We may need to hide

And the meanings that get left behind
All the innocents lost at one time
We're all different behind the eyes
There's no need to hide
We're safe tonight.


thank you, e.v.

Sous-marin

I have nothing worth writing.
Tons of ideas, plenty of drafts.
Nothing completed nor worth sharing.

I'm lost. And going dark.
What does any of this mean?
Why do I do what I do?
Where is this coming to?
Nothing.

Don't like this.
Bad scene.
Limp.

Going under for a little while.
Let you know when I surface.

About Time

When I make it big...

I don't imagine there will be a deluge of congratulations. There will be some hugs, a couple phone calls. The website will take a few more hits, and perhaps people will write more comments.
E-mail. Yay.
Maybe some more people will acknowledge me in the streets. More guys will posture nervously and more girls will bat me an eye when I walk by. My family and friends will be glassy-eyed, faces stuck in a smile.
I will get sick of the phrase,
"I am so proud of you!"
This will happen. But it's not that much. It's just Step 2 to my Step 1.

This, I imagine, will happen more.

There will be an immediate line of people, single-file. Each of them wear angry faces, sharpened eyebrows and upturned lips. One-by-one they step up to meet me.
A slap on the back.
Another slap on the back.
Hands smacking my back. A couple land on my head. My shoulders. Chest. Cheek. Someone punches. Hands grasp and grab. Throttle me. Choke. A slam to the gut. Fist in my balls.
Some heel strikes the back of my knee and I go down. And then the kicking. Base of the spine. Foot up my ass. Knocking the wind out of me. Their endless faces seething, fright wigs of disbelief.
I'll never stop hearing the phrase,
"It's about damn time!"

This won't happen. But I'll feel it. It's what keeps me from taking that step.