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And That Is The Story

and I called it a deb date


it ended at the bowling alley in the bathroom


i drank a flurescent lightbulb, undoed the mistake


of a blue marble made into a bead


(and) tied into my hair with a baby


thinking blue, it is the one who it is that is thinking it that is whom


or what is it that is behind, beyond, next to truth, what I know about it and


what it actually is, somewhere along those lines once again within, a question


and forever on the other wide open, the dentist stuck his fingers in my mouth


without gloves on, and what is it to do and for what, the gloves coming off


the mind in the froth, boiling up more doubts once more, a shadow of true love


is a fear of a touch of remorse for not taking more time to get to know you


a thought written while thinking of A what, the idea of the mind to discover


the hidden truth behind beneath the surface too fine that a seed within me had


died and the light as it shines as I write as I know, what, I cant say exactly then


I know what I think of, I know what, right from wrong, without it where would we be


no friends, to choose to give in to the serpent speaking the shadow of a truer love than true


could not be could not see could not be the mortar in the canyon of fools, for whom and for


what the tale of the dove the songstress seaming up the knotting wood, reminders of places


I have been to before, reminders of things whiteout the brain, twas a blood twas a tear twas


by a babe that took me to a swing


she ate the word and gardened it


whose it was, i don't know who did it i don't know


who thought of, who I thought I was, thinking of


whether or not it is that I, in truth, red again



my birthday, we were celebrating, i don't know


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