Invisible Touch

(There is NO better pop star than Phil Collins. NONE
Even if ELO is the greatest full band for eternity
Man just listen to the song- It’s better than anything I could come up with)

Well now I know
There’s nothing harder to see
than whatever it is that keeps us going
But we’re still here
so it must exist
And if we can’t find it
No matter how hard we look
I guess we have to come to peace
with the knowledge that it’s hiding somewhere
Maybe right in plain sight.

Come Morning

It’s a boring story
Aspirin phenibut and morphine
A few years of pictures
And my first cigarette in weeks

listen until you can’t hear anymore
ignore until you can’t ignore anymore
stay still until you can’t move anymore
feel good until you don’t feel good anymore

Lonely lovesick or amphetamine eyes
Every Single pop song is a lie
Making figures and stories on the bumps on the ceiling,
the cage that protects you from the sky.
Aching burning painful lively desire
and the deathstill freedom of wanting nothing.
The walls turned yellow years ago
and the nights last for days.
Her face is blurry in my memory,
but I still see her long jet-black hair.
When I was a kid sometimes the world looked upside down

And nobody feels as good
as they think they should
And nobody can get to sleep
And nobody wants this to last forever
And nobody wants to die
And even the ghosts are fuckin bored
And everyone wants to go to japan


We churn out our fears onto paper and into music
We believe what we must to stay distracted and self-assured
We all want others to listen
We all want to be heard
We all take a little too much
We all wish we had more to give
We all want to love and be loved
We all wish we knew what love really means
We all wish we weren’t so damn alone
We all want the light to blind us
We all try to keep our darkness hidden away
We are all afraid

It’s not enough
It still doesn’t work
Something is wrong
but no one knows what
We all blame it on someone else
or blame too much on ourselves
We are all still animals
We all are hungry
We all chase what we cannot have
We all want something from you

Survival is Food, Life is Communication

My dog is often bored
But I hope he’s happy when he rests his head on my lap
When you live entirely in the moment
the fullness of existence is what you are right now

Foods foods- yay
Alone anxious- sads
Happy excited- wow
In pain- in pain forever

Maybe it’s less different than we presume
We feel the same way, we just worry about the future as well.

Billy Shakes

Do not throw Elliot at me, you babylonian slouch
gaze upon my work, ye Nightingale and despair
with hours to go before I sleep
I have seen the greatest minds of my generation
destroyed by such a hollow man
as I sing the body bandersnatch
and hear the tambourine man’s song
in this hour of lead
and Lenore left us so young

I was listening to ‘Murder in the Red Barn’ by Tom Waits

When the air gets stale and musty
in the swamp of late July
The cicadas scream all day
at night the possums start to cry

The old man’s drunk and mad again
killing in self-defense is not a crime
It’s too damn hot to tolerate this shit
he smacked her one too many times

She might be getting on in years
but she’s a woman of many faces
He owes a lot of money
And she’s known men in strong places

She knows she’s in the old man’s will
She knows the first name of the county clerk
She knows where old man keeps the axes
She knows what time he gets off work

The rats grew bored of stealing cheese
and ganged up on a mouse
And the lady of the home
is stuck inside this house

eh you get the idea


The moon is a demon
your mouth is a sink
slurping up my words and my ink
desire spills out like semen
brain beating so loud I can’t think
the stars are pinholes in stockings
it’s called research, not stalking
I might miss something if I blink

The walls are the whale’s stomach lining
The sunrise a declaration of war
The trick is in the timing
I don’t remember what you said
but I remember what you wore
nicotine pixie, morphine whore

The storm cell is a sacrament
lightning sparks baptismal fire
My body is sore, my soul is abstinent
I sink to get higher

Monthly Pass

The best and the worst of humanity comes out on the bus
A microcosm of camaraderie, solidarity, cultural exchange, ethnic strife
Whether the people up front move out of the way and help fasten down an old woman in a wheelchair
or everyone yells to the driver if someone is running up about to miss their ride
or some tom clancy looking dickbag decides to chime in when a black woman smacks her kid- boy that was a loud one
besides them it was just me and the driver and neither of us were getting involved in that shit
But it’s more good than bad, we’re all locals
we’re all stuck here
we all sort of get along
Like when the whole bus was roused in a discordant chorus of ‘that’s what’s up’ when we passed the construction site of a new Popeye’s popping up in town
I said nothing but I did nod knowingly
Popeyes is the bomb, screw KFC
New warning signs were put up; now in English, Spanish and Hanzi
Since the population from mainland China has exploded in recent years
they’re foreign students and they’re locals too
it’s almost like we live in a real city
an oasis of Tech Money in the middle of Nothing Nowhere USA
almost makes me proud to live in Illinois
My car broke down, it needs a new starter
and some medical emergencies prevented me from ponying up the cash
so I’ve become one of the bus regulars and I’m starting to blend with the rest of the weirdos
I wonder if everyone learns everyone elses’ schedule or it’s just me.
A group of guys file on every day, all kind of gimpy and weird looking,
I think they all stay together in assisted living, they’re a riot.
The other day they piled on board from the park and they had gas station hot dogs, and they lead a chant, stomping their feet, singing some song that I didn’t understand
as badly as I wanted to join in

Some old man stepped on and said one thing to the driver:
“cubs are looking good this year”
the driver replied, “mm hm”
I think that exchange sums up the bus.


Takin a trip down the mississip
mandolin fiddle down the water
thinkin bout my baby way up in chicago
but she’s far way and I’m driftin farther

Takin a trip losin my grip
fallin down fallin even harder
gotta make it to the harbor to pawn this mandolin
to buy a ticket to the train headin northward

Takin a trip on my little ship
need some money to marry a rich man’s daughter
If I make it to New Orleans hell I pray it ain’t a dream
I’ll buy her a mansion with a shiny silver dollar

Takin a trip tryin not to flip
Jesus don’t lead me like a lamb to the slaughter
pickin on the strings with my gal’s voice in my head
What don’t kill ya leaves ya almost dead but stronger

Takin a trip hope I don’t slip
every second spent with her is an honor
every mile that I wander is farther way from home
And everywhere without her is over yonder

Cave Paintings, 2150

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