Bleeds.

Bleeds

When in doubt, my heart will bleed,

in times without, I will succeed.

All my sorrow, perhaps has proclaimed,

the stars will listen, as I cry in vain.

The night is listening, to my soiled tears-

and as I cry, I release my (perpetual) fears.

To dream, I will, and dream of rain,

my fears are burdened by my constant pain.

The piano plays constantly in the living room,

I cannot live without, for fear of doom.

To dream, I do, and dream of I,

my soiled tears are withered cries.

The crow caws constantly, outside my window,

and I see the rain in sheets in the street below.

How vain, it is, to think that I,

am hurt all not, and cannot cry.

A Time Of Snakes.

Time flies over everything.  The sun is the moon and the stars.
I force myself to awaken to the song of everything.  I have been
moved by things that come before me.  There is a snake,
crying in the grass.  Her babies have been smothered by

the land.  She is crying for revenge, and the Indian hears her cry.
She slithers across the land, trying to find hope in the wilderness.
The tall grass, the bumpy mounds, the fat old groundhog
chittering away before wintertime comes.

The sun rises over the sky like a big goldfish bowl.
Temptation begins where hope ends.  The Indians travel by foot,
even though they have cars-Rolls Royce, Volkswagen, Honda.
Those are the cars of future's past.  In the end, time changes,

everything changes.  Nothing remains the same.