Day 268 – The Bus

It’s doing me good to realize
I am not the one driving the bus
but I still pump the imaginary brakes
every bump we hit

It’s doing me some good to see
my steering wheel is just a toy
but I still grip at ten and two
and try to turn it

It’s terrifying to know that
I am not the one driving the bus
but I am the one constantly trying
to take command

Day 262 – Goodbye to an Old Yellow TV Stand

You were with us, ugly and heavy,
for several years, we never
had the time or motivation to haul you
out to the street so instead we just
kept stuffing you with plastic shopping bags
ever since Kevin moved out and decided
his girlfriend had better furniture.
I guess you probably saw a lot, every time
we rearranged the living room, always
ending up sweaty and too tired to care
that you were still hanging around. But
we’re getting down to the stuff on the bottom
of the list, it’s time to have something they call
an entertainment center, and god what a bitch it was
to disassemble you and leave you on the curb,
have fun at the landfill, I’ll be somewhere similar,
I’m sure, in a couple years

Day 261 – Your Own Soundtrack

you need something, alright
but it’s not what you seem to think
awareness is a gift, I guess
when you’re so close to the brink

but you’ve known all this time
exactly how to pull it back
I’ve heard this song so many times
you love your own soundtrack

a memory, a fantasy
it doesn’t matter which one
they’re both dead in the past
but the funeral’s never done

the wine to aid your grieving
didn’t keep you from the brink
just from jumping, just from living
a rosary dropped in a drink

and you want a napkin to dry your eyes
because existence makes you cry
well I’d like a set of earplugs, please
the best that money can buy

Day 259 – Our Herded Hearts

If love was a field of green, why shouldn’t we be cows?
Fill up four stomachs with all that abundance,
why couldn’t we thrive on that redundance,
get fat off the wealth that nature allows?

And if love was a waiting trap, why shouldn’t we walk in?
Recite the tale to our sons and daughters,
then come with heads held high to the slaughter,
why should we lament what our end has been?