Monsoon Monday

From my iPod

Here I am
Listen to the kings speech
No I don’t stutter
Shut up. Sit down and
Listen to me
I’m at the go between of Mass Ave
and Cambridge street
Waiting to be seen

At places like this I break my chains
And release venom like a prize fighter and a black widow
Where the beats tell you which way to wave your hands

In the back of my mind
I rewind back to happier times when the world was mine
back to five and dimes where the sun still shined on my face
Damn, summer, summer time… If I can make it there again
I’ll smile wide and show my teeth.

I’m sick of this green winter
I’m tired of smelling salts and time machines…I’m tired of incomplete dreams, where your so close to finding the meaning but two o clock comes and goes and with that your weekend.

I love the smell of smoke, it swirls around in the air and gone
Just like the feeble mind
In the end each cell swells and tells its story, explodes and into the air it
Disappears…each synapse strikes a chord snaps a string
Leaving bruised fists and broken mirrors

And on and on the sober writer sings his song…warrior eyed lamenting his wins
and losses.

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