Two Ways

You want us as you think
That normal people ought to be
And every time, you overlook
What might be there to see

We all want to feel we’re loved
No more you than me
And every time you turn away
I wish that you would see


I try to guess what it will be like
I know I’m so far off the mark
Beauty approaches like the sunrise
Fear comes at you like a shark

I try my hand at clairvoyance
All I see is a blank page
Someone said you write your own future
I’d like to meet them with a 12 gauge.


When did the change occur?
When did reason travel ’round
To the dark side of a dark future
And there, run aground?

Why did it thus embark?
Why did it head that way?
Why did it not the warnings hark
And turn back towards the day?

I know not the impetus
I know not the time
I only know that it was lost
Somewhere along the line.


Does it make me immature
To always play the fool?
Does it make me somehow less
To play by your own rules?
Am I supposed to make it out
Like what is said is not a wall?
Am I supposed to never cry
Or feel anything at all?
No matter if I hear anger
In every other breath;
No matter if my father
Jokes of his own death;
No matter is supposed to be
Beyond my reckoning:
I’m supposed to somehow know this world
That I have never seen.
To know the foolishness of man —
Is that maturity?
If so, I’ve had my fill
And I beg you let me be.


My life is a chain of promises broken
And of the ones that I kept, I gave no sign or token
So as I think of the tree and the silence unbroken
I’m expecting to hear, “Your heart must be oaken…”

Slamming Doors

It’s better than it was before:
Laughter drifts through open doors;
So why does my chest tighten,
And my heart so quickly frighten,
At every hint of sounds like slamming doors?

Is it my unpainted fears
On the wall, downstairs?
Or the memory of a child,
Imagination running wild,
Listening to the yelling coming from upstairs?

Is it a weakness that is beautiful?
Or a strength to shield my weary soul?
Or a laughter in my mind,
That says to treat in kind,
And insists that in the end, no one’s really saveable?

Or maybe it’s the path I choose
At the crossroads of lose-lose;
And maybe if I try enough
At the game of never giving up,
I’ll find that there’s a prize that even on that road, I cannot lose.