alone in a new town
here I am stripped down
the essentials of direction
beg for rejection
as they transform
color and form
acquire new meaning
friends are far and fleeting
migrate to the closet
the place that hasn’t lost it
curled in the security of form
mindlessly reborn
a hundred pants
could never revamp
a plant half past dead
without watershed
a tearfull revere
mild and sincere
in need of a new jacket
the rest are past tense
the car packed full
left space for empty soul
a faithfull friend hides
in blatent disguise
as a matter of irritation
this is subordination
of the most pious form
our heart strings are torn
until the morning sun rise
our electric filled skies
suprises remind us
that the place we call home
is a matter of tone
and above all else
the wick will burn
until it stands alone.
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