These are trees
Leaves are stones, grass
As time is spent, time mesmerized,
Time bent on the floor
On my knees and hands,
Time placed, lived, held
Like window light window alphabet
Window head, window placed at my feet
Circles, dashes, prisms for gladness,
Prisons for sadness, pockets for secrets,
Potential for madness. seasons for calmness,
Borders for pinups, sanctuaries for wisecracks,
Holidays for whisperers.
Biting our tonges, selling our saviors,
Biding our time, buying our voices,
Ignoring our conscience, selling our asses,
Washing our faces, starving our senses.
Something I know,
But just don't show you.
What can I do? What can I do?
What can I do?