rearranging faces.. and names

i'm not going to speak to you
much...

i'm telling stories. words are meant to be cryptic. ideas flow from our minds and from our hearts, but we can say whatever we want....

i won't be telling you about my day
i won't be postulating or innovating.. complaining or suggesting...
..i'll play with words

i'll offend and confuse
..but i don't mean to

i'll make no sense
..i don't want to

i'll let u see what's inside of me
i'll let u feel around in the dark
but i'll hide the lightbulbs
and i'll make the dictionary meaningless

i'll be careful and careless
playful and serious

i'll make you trust your curiosity
and question what you know

.......what else are words good for?

"I can't wait for you to change your mind...

...it's late. I'm trying to walk the line. Well, it's way past midnight and there are people all around. Some on their way up. Some on their way down. Air burns. I'm trying to think straight. And I don't know how much longer I can wait."
- Can't Wait, Dylan


so, i guess i'm sitting
sitting in the dark
next to the candle
cold air
in the smoke

i guess i'm wishing
i could turn back the clock
and make up my mind
or realize
what it would take
to get to here
from there

i guess i'm counting
all the times
we said 'love'

i guess i'm falling
trying to remember
what it felt like
to be happy
up above


i keep my fingers to the keys and read on
write on
think on
until my mind bleeds
weighing reason
but the day just fades
another night
where did she go?

i guess i'm smoking
and staring out
from another window

the death of God in the soul of a child...

"our first act as free men was to throw ourselves onto the provisions. we thought only of that. not of revenge, not of our families. nothing but bread. and even when we were no longer hungry, there was still no one who thought of revenge. on the following day, some of the young men went to Weimer to get some potatoes and clothes -- and to sleep with girls. but of revenge, not a sign. three days after the liberation of Buchenwald, i became very ill with food poisoning. i was transferred to the hospital and spent two weeks between life and death. one day i was able to get up, after gathering all my strength. i wanted to see myself in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. i had not seen myself since the ghetto. from the depths of the mirror, a corpse gazed back at me. the look in his eyes, as they stared into mine, has never left me."
-- Night, Elie Wiesel