air out your life
 
crispness in the air
 
leaves taking up space
on the ground
 
football weather
 
crack a window and
air out your life
 
these are the mornings
where a cup of coffee
becomes three
 
daydreams become
paint drying in the
shade
 
old angels bleeding
 
broken souls trying to relish
the final heartbeats of what
could have been
 
old demons laughing
 
like you ever thought this
would turn out differently
 
there never was a rainbow
 
a pot of gold or even a little
green suit
 
everything born has to die
 
and no one enjoys life
past their expiration date
 
even a life of eating shit
doesn't prepare you for
that taste
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
find ourselves in now
 
heaven is a woman
that squeezes tighter
and tells you to get
going
 
hell is when you
have to leave and
know forever is
slipping out of
your hands
 
and whatever we
find ourselves in
now is neither
 
perhaps that is
what hell truly

is
------------------------------------------------------------------------
the old lovers become ghosts
 
these nights where
the rain moves in
and the ache catches
you right before
you fall asleep
 
the old lovers
become ghosts
 
they don't haunt
as much as they
used to
 
they are simply
reminders of what
could have been
 
all the turns you
chose not to take
 
you can't dwell
on such things
 
it will only
paralyze you
 
the present is
enough horror

to begin with
-------------------------------------------------------------------
the courage to leap
 
i used to walk over
this bridge when i
was a child
 
i think i was eight
 
i had nightmares that
eventually turned to
dreams of jumping off
that bridge to my death
 
anytime i drive over
one now and i'm alone
 
that thought creeps
back in
 
and as tempting as it
really is, especially
during these days
 
i keep on driving
 
think of the other lucky
souls that had the courage

to leap
-------------------------------------------------------------------
why not
 
a lonely glass
of scotch
 
dusty springfield
leaking out of the
speakers
 
rain coming down
 
one of these nights
where the shotgun
in the corner licks
her lips and asks
why not
 
you see pen and
paper on your desk
 
been a few years
since you gave a
final note the good
old college try
 
and then
you remember
the trick to finding
pleasure in the pain
 
there's a reason you
always loved a black

woman