Your Complex
This is not emptiness, not vacancy
We are what we are, but where are we?
We’re choking on the dust of a gold mine,
with the taste filling every crevice of my mouth like a wild fire

I don’t want to be reconditioned,
I want to be made new
Tear me down and build me up or
tear me down, period

Name your complex, the one you inherited
from your parents when you were an infant
We could drop it, never talk about it again but
I’m just wondering, darling, is this worthwhile?

Be careful of who you impress,
You never know when you’ll need an enemy
Be careful of what you learn,
you never know when you’ll need a mystery
Be careful of who you are,
you never know who you’ll still need to be
And carefully channel every desire,
you never know when you might need to want something

Eyesopen / Eyesclosed
This is cognitive avoidance;
I need you to fill me in
I already spend one waking hour
of every day with my eyes closed
So you ask, offended,
why I put in extra time when you’re around

I already give you six hundred reminders
every hour of our transience
as if I don’t miss enough in my
nine hours spent with my eyes closed
Alertness interrupted by latency,
or bored out of mine or someone else’s tree?

The gas and oil in the machine,
clogged up by a single phrase:
When you recharge your batteries,
you aren’t missing anything.

When I blink too much,
kiss me until I am paying attention

Guilt Free Living
All around this ill-lit town,
streetlights keep burning out

My wife is relaxing with a glass of tabloids
Drinking information
Too exhausted for anything heavier than this
And I am eating a bag of porn,
the different flavours all get stored
until I’m overweight and overrated

All around this ill-lit town,
streetlights keep burning out

The first brand to try out
Selling edible information
First called themselves ‘You Are What You Eat’
But shortly after changed their name
to the far less applicable
but significantly more appealing
‘Guilt Free Living’

All around this ill-lit town,
streetlights keep burning out

The sun revolves around the earth
to prove to us our human worth
Once and for all, make me an information superhighway

All around this ill-lit town,
streetlights keep burning out
Once again, I’m on the outside looking in
the flashlights are burning out

I’d be the first to tell you it’s not about the money
But of course I wouldn’t say no if I was given the option

Too many advantages to properly ignore
Have showed up and they’re waiting, honey,
I left them standing at the door
How do you not know what to say?!
Er, I mean, I don’t know what to say
but why don’t we, just, come on honey
lets tell these good folks ‘yes?’

I left the next morning with eyelids wide open
I left without warning, eyes wide with hoping

You said “In a world without illusion, where do you think we’d be?
Without the fig leaves, without the bullshit
Without reality TV
Maybe we’d find the only sane ones
to be the kids with ADD
giving the same amount of attention
to every single thing they see”

One hundred miles later, and still undecided
Caught my own eye in the rearview, and tucked it under my eyelid

Automatic Teller Machine
In a morning as crisp as 20s from the ATM
I am walking, and I am walking with a purpose:
To avenge the year when all your rights got a little bit left
To take back my bitter words
and to feed your sorrow to the birds

Every time you fall asleep,
I look at your closed eyes and think that
You are all you are
I hope you never train your voice
or lose your faith in noise

We’re getting somewhere, but somewhere could be anywhere

Gord, I Weakened
Neurons firing randomly
in the half-wit ill-lit almost dream
with your misplaced friends and their memories
Guts always get spilt when someone’s half asleep

I’m here, but I feel neverendingly there
I’m here, but I don’t feel anywhere
I don’t feel anywhere

When all the complaints and nails have been filed
we’ll try to forget about them for a while
We’ll watch the trees dying, with bare arms spread wide
and shoulders hunched at the sky, whispering
“Is this what we endured for?”

Gord, I weakened
But when the whole world’s an ocean of snow
It only matters where you stay,
it doesn’t matter where you go

I’m here, but I feel neverendingly there
I’m here, but I don’t feel anywhere

June 30, 2011
I have filled books with trivia
with quotations and newspaper clippings
trying to convince myself of what you already know
But the fortune teller on the radio
is trying to change what I believe,
but if you will tell me what you want,
I’ll tell you what I need:

I need to buy some money
so I can get a camera
and take pictures of pictures
until I remember the things you remember
and I know you better than you know yourself
And I need to chop some lumber
so I can build an easel
so I can paint your picture
and make you look so beautiful
until you love me even more than I love myself

I feel like one of the birds nesting out in the rafters
of the new Ag Center in town
All my friends will come and call me a coward,
but I’ll defend myself, saying
“The pun was just too good to pass up,
it was just way too good for me to pass up”

There won’t be water and blood spilling from my gut
as long as you come around
But it won’t be small town talkers that’ll talk me down,
back onto the ground

And now I need to buy some money
so I can buy a camera
and take pictures of pictures
until I remember the things you remember
and I know you better than you know yourself
And I need to chop some lumber
so I can build an easel
and I will paint your picture
and I will show you how beautiful you are
until I love you even more than I love myself

For Winter
Don’t put your words in ink, and if you got it,
you should know better than to mention luck
But we forgot that
I guess we saw the clouds leaving
over mountains to the west,
in what was a pretty warm wind for winter
but a cold wind none the less

Catalyst, catalyst, look what you’ve done
you tried to speed things up
and now they’ve only begun
Who’s telling who what?
You’ve got guts but guts aren’t what we’re looking for
Wrong Friends/Right Enemies
Wrong Line/Right Said to Be

I’m not here for the breaking point
I was under the impression we broke over an hour ago

Rods + Cones
Rods and Cones rearranging around themselves
perilously well,
trying to see in this half light
I keep wondering about white light and bright black
I have trained how to deal with them
but they’re so sparse in reality

I never trusted him until the ones who made bad calls
started starring in cameo rolls in my dreams
as burnt out, cussing rock stars
I know, I know it was just a slip in the tongue
But Freud says you’re in love
So now who am I to believe?

All this beauty that I’ve grown accustomed to
That I curse at and look through
quietly retreats into itself
Because The Crows keep coming, bringing my dross back around
and I’m cowering at the sound of the words
they’re chanting to me

They keep saying,
“Good ideas are just bad ideas that work”

Eyelashes (My Mind, the Highway, and a Show)
My Mind is a pilot who always looks over his shoulder
trained years ago to pay his attention to the wake
of tears and of baggage trailing behind him,
never quite going where their old master planned for them

The Highway is a pirate with a bird on his shoulder
trained better than to pay attention attention to the captives
all strung together, only ever going exactly
where their new master has planned for them

This Show is a riot with blood on his shoulders
too drunk to pay attention to the band or the dancers
doing their best to entertain, but fueling the fire
and never quite knowing just who their master is

So, the three of them picked a day and they got together
and did the only thing they thought they knew how to

They tried to kill beauty,
but now look at her ashes:
hoarfrost triumphantly dusting the trees
They thought they killed beauty,
but as gentle as eyelashes
I see her breast rising as she once again breathes

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