Songs sung with shaky voices that I hadn't heard in a minute. Places and people that I never went back to. Might pass by that house and its bus stop, but wearing different shoes, different vision, different sunglasses. Might see them in the market, talk a while, not saying much except with the eyes. Hope they aren't lying when they say they doing well, check out, check out, and continue on my way.

The More I See, The Less I Know In chaos, calm. In seeing, blindness and In darkness, clear vision. In understandings, Undoing.

Time goes faster and faster And my spirit moves slow I remember everything at once- Every season, every storm, every sunrise Every sadness, every celebration Everywhere I went and went back to and Left a part of myself who looks to the sky and speaks into the future To remind myself where I stood

What Do You Call The Flip Side Of Manic? Up at midnight for The first time In a long time- Starting to forget What I came here for The feelings are familiar, Parallels of last February- Same green-eyed girl, Same strange winter weather. Same music travels through my fingertips, Down my spine. This time my tone is better, And I, half the wiser for Having been here before. I guess this place in personal space is An occupational hazard Of a love affair with the act of Disappearing.

If I Can Play My Guitar Loud Enough It's a good guitar; All solid woods, clean lines, clear tones. I like to play real quietly, but I figure that If I can play my guitar loud enough, I won't hear my brother and my mom yelling back and forth like actors on a tv drama about the alcohol and the probation and the breakdown of communication. If I play loud enough, I can drown out the sound of my heart punching a hole through my ribcage every time someone knocks on my door and I imagine it's those goddamn cops again, or when I remember all of the times I wasn't brave enough. I could play so loud that I couldn't hear myself asking how the fuck I was gonna survive when I feared #life a hell of a lot more than I could ever fear death, so loud I couldn't hear all the things I see, the broken people and the endless struggle for a warm, safe place to sleep. Damn. The violence and the panic and the fear of admitting how much you don't know, and all the people being afraid of themselves and each other- everybody guns out and backs to the walls western civilization. Maybe, just maybe, I can play myself up a wall of sound so strong it could keep out the apathy. Maybe if I play long enough, someday I'll hear music.