Obscured inspiration,
a slow distant whist,
words crawl from the unconscious,
linking themselves into foreign phrases.
Shirt drips clean water and wakes me at 4 am.
Delusions of grandeur only lead to grander delusions.
Everything becomes clear when the universe swirls out of focus,
the cosmos are ruled by chaos,
and love may just be the fear of fear.
We all want what we already have,
we lose ourselves to find ourselves,
and the circle is the only rational shape I see.
Circles solve the myth of eternity,
all that is lost will turn up again
and again up will turn.
All that is twisted will be laid out straight,
all that's obscured will appear clear,
do you understand what you stand under?
Subjected to the hopes and fears of wanton peers
you move in their shadows, yet still lead the way
you condemn their god and teach them to pray,
we don't have a barn, yet we roll in the
HEY, bet you thought I had something useful to say,
oh well, not today.