“I wish we could share the same dream”...

Your drowsy words and the lines they fit between.

The train line in the distance sings to me...

A smoky croon, a melody of possibilities. 

My left hand wrapped in your locks, just the way you like...

My left brain wrapped up in thoughts all night.

I’m 24, sleepless on South 3rd.

I’m 33, screaming but unheard.

I’m 15, in discord...

My right hand on a record, my right brain at war. 

These thoughts are homeless, they wander...

A thin line between what is lost and what is squandered. 

Through the spinning blades of a fan...

Through the screen window...

Through the humid summer air...

In the haze of a streetlight I can see my soul, bare. 

There’s nothing to be afraid of... 

The worst has already happened in those stoned daydreams that I made up.

All the hypotheticals that I ate up...

As free as I want to be if I just look straight up. 



I’ve been up all night...

Reading about space, consciousness, and the afterlife. 

7 months ago you were a hologram in the hallway light.

I told you I broke my brain and you assured me I was alright. 

Spin me right ‘round, baby, right ‘round...

Watch me tear off my clothes and kiss the ground. 

Your lips are moving but I don’t hear a sound...

Does the sea level drop when you drown?

21 grams and salt in the wound...

They’ll ask me their questions and I’ll sing them a tune. 

It’s the only one I know, and it makes me so blue...

The most I can muster is to hum it to you. 

Plaques on the wall and my hit record...

I’ve gone platinum with my wreckage. 

I still think about my friend’s last message...

I still have a habit of locating the nearest emergency exits. 

If life is but a dream, this is so surreal...

I’m on a bed of nails, my love is tired of hearing the details. 



In the dead of night I wonder if you can hear my restlessness... 

Small tremors that crack bed slats, cripple coils, and weaken the headboard. 

Every evening, wearing myself out in the slivers of light that sneak through the blinds...

Pillow talk with angels but the devil’s in the details. 

I watch the silhouette of your back rise and fall with each breath...

Been watching the backs of people as they slips away for years now. 

I couldn’t dream this shit up. 

Half past someone having the last laugh, and I’m wide awake

trying to remember last words. 

Remember that conversation we had when I called from court in New York?

Neither do I. 

It was rushed... It was nothing... It’s so important. 

I used to be scared by stories the nuns would tell us... 

Struggle. Sacrifice. Death. Resurrection. 

A little brother on the bottom bunk, sick to my stomach, missing people long before they

were gone. 

It’s half past 3 and I’m half conscious...

Or am I halfway home from Crown Heights?

Halfway through our usual call... 

Halfway through the intersection of Broadway and Myrtle...

Halfway through the length of a life.

I wonder if you can feel my restlessness...

The tossing. The turning. The first hint of morning. 



See you soon. 

Two tin cans and string... The ocean... The moon. 

That red-eye flight and you... 

My tsunami of blue. 

Crushing, crashing, endlessly, everlasting...

Pitter-patter and pangs, the tides scream your name. 

You are all I see...

Love is the high-water mark of your tsunami. 

So I’ll see you soon.

I’ll see you soon...

I’ll see you tsunami. 



How many dizzying thoughts can I tuck into a corner booth?

Swear these lights are perfect for an interior monologue and the truth.

It's not that I want to say, it's what I have to say...

As if someone else could possibly feel half this way.

You know me. I'm 2:15, when you struggle to sleep.

The weight on your mind that you bury so deep.

The focus of your glance... The jarring alarms when eyes lock...

The lies we tell ourselves... A mirror and small talk. 

You know me… I'm a cliff… You can either fly or die.

Can you throw caution to the wind? Hard to tell unless you try.

I have so much to tell you and I have no idea why.

Can you see the urgency in my eyes?

A reservoir, dammed.

Heart's valley, damned.

I know you know that I know you know.

It's beautiful and exhausting… Brilliant and costly.

I'd rather paint a picture.

I'd rather drag the parts to build a towering sculpture soaked in a flammable mixture.

We can watch it be consumed by flames because this is greater than all of that.

I'm consumed but I assume you could never take in all of that.

But you know me. I'm a slide show… Curated... Fragmented… Aha moments in a nuh-uh world.

You play it back night after night. Projected against a canopy of stars and their dying light.

You add in my additions…

My editions.

I lay down another one on a sheet of Bristol.

You know, something sweet and cryptic.

Some sort of oeuvre of epistles.



I was a cartographer.

Measuring mileage with a flashlight between my teeth.

An amateur.

Trying to decipher the key.

Sleepless, when I should have been dreaming...

Stowed away in a sleeping bag where no one could see me.

Heavy breathing and uneasiness.

In retrospect I can see the irony in every evening's repeated steps.

What's the distance to a safe haven?

As the crow flies?

In miles?

In days?

Some place where the highway ends...

A dirt road of several hundred miles and bends...

Where towns turn to villages turn to territories turn to numbers

Find my beating heart, a compass, and thunder...

A mountain range between us...

Scream your name until we are dust.

How far am I from safety?

Night after night after night, a mind racing.

As if I knew the terrain ahead...

As if I knew every valley and river bend.

The novel's end, is not a novel end.

Signed, sealed, and sent.

You and me carved into a tree.




Can you hear me now?

Shouting out the driver’s side... 

Windswept sunshine. 

Dusty back roads, 

The words stuck in my throat. 

Lose my voice, but gain ground,

I’ll look you up when I’m in town. 

Meet me at the gates of your garden...

Road-worn and hardened, I beg your pardon.

Static on the radio...

Headlights or afterglow?

These rambling thoughts are dominoes...

My beating heart is indigo.

Can you see me now? 

A rainbow in a rooster tail

All my love written on a dirty windshield. 

All that is real, and all my illusions... 

Breakdown lanes and seclusion. 

Keep it moving. 

Take the wheel... 

Let me kick up my Achille’s heel. 

Crimson and clover...

Rubber and steel.



It must have been a dream, this couldn't be real...

Could I stare an oncoming train down? Could I swan dive off of the platform?

I'm at your door, can you hear me knocking?

It's a pleasure to meet my maker, now let's get acquainted,

"Our father who art in heaven", hollow be my heart.

Blaring horn, blinding lights, I pull the rug up from under you...

This can't be real.

I've been patient. I've been listening. I've been aching.

Let me show you... Pump your brakes and I'll break my jaw. I am a tunnel. I am a jigsaw puzzle.

Derailed... This can't be real.

Express to the lower depths....

No local stops. This feeling has been nonstop. Unrelenting. Forgive me, I'm only venting.

Can you hear me now? A scream that blows out the glass.

Wheels scrape molars, sparks on fillings...

Fill me. Fill the void. This has been tough to swallow.

I've been choking back tears for years. Self-fulfilling prophecies and fears. Bystanders can only stare.

This can't be real. Twisting steel. A metal snake with scales.

Scale your way through my throat... do you feel the impact of the last words I spoke?

Ricochet around my ribs, smoke splits my lips.

Rivets stripped by hip bones, I cough them up and spit.

It must have been a dream... this engine in my dungeon. How many tons can I stuff into my lungs?

This can't be real... my ouija board planchette is the third rail.

Reach out and touch someone.

Straphangers... hang on my words.

This is violence. This is perverse. This is absurd. This is a pulled parachute cord.

I've been sleeping in a layup. I've been passing between cars. I can't explain this sensation.

Conductor, I'm calling you out.

Faster now, faster... to infinity and beyond.

All aboard... do not lean against the door.

This must be a dream... this can't be real. Do you feel what I feel?

Hop a turnstile and feel the breeze from a passing downtown bound centipede.

Watch the gap, the 6-foot drop in the tracks...

I tried to tell you about this pent up hopelessness, some sick energy that could bend a subway train, never mind a bus, devour every single piece because I'm so fucking dumbfounded and disgusted that anyone could expect me to let this Rest In Peace.........

I wouldn't say that what is left is peace. Perhaps pieces... machinery, chaos, I'm speechless.

This must be a dream, can you see me levitating in your light beams?

Speak to me...