Now you’re here and you don’t know why
But under skinned knees and the skid marks
Past the places where you used to learn
You howl and listen, listen and wait for the
Echoes of angels who won’t return…
I have my back on the sun, facing forward
So long and goodnight to the mornings I will discard
In the highway I constructed, shadows shift
I think I’ll be walking on this life they call a road trip.
Conflagration flying past oceans, murmuring tacit prayers
Counting fallen feathers for the losing sky-drowned hours
Causeries bartering hanging lights and silver dollar moons
Crashing in collisions of star showers, orbit heaven at noon.
Leave me to beat out the bad news with a belt
But I never leave scars, only angry marks and welts
Soon they’ll come back for another box round
Perhaps this time I can bury them all into the ground.
The distorted horizons appear to be a looking glass
In which vacant visages can peer out flummox past
Unblinking funicular eyes oscillate betwixt the edge
Again it sinks into cosmic cisterns, glazing the ledge.
The letter I sent to the past never arrived for the message
The return address was blurred, I lacked a ten pence postage
So I’ll send another envelope to the future me, it’s enough
This time, I’m changing the postmark and licking the stamps.
But you’ll just sit tight and watch it unwind
It’s only what you’re asking for
And you’ll be just fine with all of your time
It’s only what you’re waiting for…