Half Blind We Wrote These Songs on Sheets of Salty Wood

If there was no way into God,
I would never have laid in this grave of a body for so long.

I'll be gone this time tomorrow

And, Christ, when You're ready to come back,
Then I think I'm ready for You to come back;
But if You want to stay wherever exactly it is You are,
That's okay, too...it's, it's really none of my business.

Sailing away from this whore house I sleep in. Away from the thirteen year old sluts that crawl around my carpet in the morning when all reasonable people are still asleep. Away from all the empty Jones soda cans of my room and perfect hockey puck espresso shots of work. Away from those I love and equally those I dislike. Into a bed where I'll sleep alone. From the lake to the ocean. The South to the Caribbean. Fragments

I must confess, I'm glad to see it go.

Peace.

Id never want someone so crass as to want someone like me
But a few legues off the shore I bit a flashing lure
And I assure you, it was not what I expected it to be
I still taste its kiss, that dull hook in my lip
Its a memory as useless as a rod without a reel