ONE: Clouded Visions

twice i've watched the sunrise in your company.
my eyes burned with the smoke of twenty-five cigarettes
consumed within three hours, with all the windows shut.
i talked, you talked, he talked:
the thing about this stuff is...

she's got an itch, and no matter how i try
i cannot scratch it.
love is a beautiful distraction
but it only kills the time
in between what she's really after.

there were fruit flies on the food when i came to rescue you.
i moved to do my best with empty, shaking hands.
if i push you into traffic will you come out clean?
the thing about this stuff is...

the silent could be eloquent and the coward could be brave
but why can't they find it in themselves
to be as strong as they could be?
love is a beautiful distraction
but it is not what she's after.

here and there and everywhere in between:
i have discovered sleep to be pointless -
the clouded visions come at night;
words scream around my brain and get lost on the way out,
laying shredded among discarded cans
and big bags of sugar.
the thing about this stuff is...

she's got an itch and no matter how i try
i cannot scratch it .
i only claw her skin off to the bone
because love is no distraction
and it is nothing compared
to what she's really after.

the thing about this stuff is:
once painted
always painted.