in seconds waiting for hope to arrive and the pizza man to ring the door, i come to conclusions
what becomes of the broken hearted?
dead and dreaming they slide into waste, wishing or falling sometimes regaining strength together but never again falling the same
where do we dream and why?
on midnight charade palaces and cool garden's of luck, for reasons only used to calm our souls in hot temptation, dripping foolery
how is it i that's lost a wing?
i fell to far and feel too much and i let it hit me hard enough when you want me to, i let it punch like fast ball thru my gut
wrenching out the worthy pieces
is knocking on the door good for now?
no - we mustn't waste days and nights, we must tip into the dusky dawn breaking and realize its all the trip and all the fuss, a big ball of sticky orange covering the dirty spots
we can't act like this
do i need to quit?
so much, so much, so much
never peace in mind until i'm done and never done in mind am i and so i wander thru breaking a new strand with every call and i think its ok but its not its not its not

and he rings the bell


___---parch