
Don’t succumb to the pitfalls
Don’t seek permission to live clean
We all owe the future an honest try
To what might be; not as was once seen
Don’t succumb to the pitfalls
Don’t seek permission to live clean
We all owe the future an honest try
To what might be; not as was once seen
I often catch myself
Glancing up at your windowpane
Occasionally seeing a silhouette
Memories of youth still remain
Possibly spying a lacy chemise
But now you’re wearing the curtains
Or maybe there was nothing on
But I couldn’t know for certain
The morning light not quite seen
I might feel like a common creeper
Alternate lifetimes in my mind
Yet I know you’d still be a keeper
I see your beautiful soul hiding
That passionate soul now a mere outline
Locked away in your precious life
I’m sure you’d say you’re ‘doing fine’
Possibly spying a lacy chemise
But now you’re wearing the curtains
Or maybe there was nothing
But I couldn’t know for certain
I see boundaries in your thought
I’m not intending to be rude
You can make your own decisions
I don’t wish to trespass nor intrude
You’re the princess in your castle
Not a figment of my invention
Locked eyes before you look away
Somehow grateful for the attention
There’s a difference
In what we’ve seen
You’ve sat idly
I’ve been in the machine
The belly & the bowels
Breathing fire & steam
I’ve stood the watch
While you’ve had pleasant dreams
Trying out stories in the morning
Typing away on this ol’ machine
Thinking of something different
A genius the world’s never seen
But I can’t think of anything great
I guess I’ll get more coffee instead
I hear a whistle from my lady
I guess my love needs me back in bed
Trying to overcome an existential crisis
Harking back to those foundational years
Emerging out of my own wounded shadow
Striving headlong into those ancient fears
Transitionally limping along these days
But my injuries aren’t those to be seen
Nor the stretch marks upon my soul
Yearning for the notion of becoming clean
Throughout it all, forever fond of the Blonde
Woman, hold me close to your breast
Tell me this life is going to be all right
That together, entangled; we’ll always be blessed
Feeling dry docked
Removed from the routine
A jolting change
Seldom so blatantly seen
Gasping for air
A life that may be your own
Ginger movements
Sensitive to a sullen tone