I miss you already. . 

Heya

Onion Peels

The onion is peeling and its left over shell is shining
Its no longer a party 'cause it happens every night
Frightened off the usuals
Frightened off
Frightened off
This winters brown with an apple sun
I can smell you passed out on the oriental rug, 
mums first purchase for your shrine to the onion peels.

Ashes Instead of Dust

Ashes instead of dust
Another empty bottle
Put them in the fucking recycling

Older bones
Wilder mouths
Family discussions

Mom's in bed
Her spawn strewn across the states
Young man with an old soul in the mountains

Rock hard wall in front of her
Make up in her bathroom counter
She rests in another house tonight

Fresh fruit and plants
My sponsor said the cicadas could be god
Let's have another cigarette

Good evening, all
No room to park
Good fuckin' night

Sweet Weeping Hair

Lost a lil' bit of nothing

Always drifting with your sweet weeping hair

You're so damn pretty, darlin' 

Throwing dirty punches,

You never gave a damn

With your sweet weeping hair

Thick and purple port

Never tasted so good

Bathing,

Not for a fuck

Bare with your sweet weeping hair

Sticky tiles 

Can't take my eyes off you, pretty darlin'

New Town

I am in the way
I am in the way
I am moving to a new town
To be closer to you
To be closer to you
To be near you
This lonesome glow is brighter, baby!
Fix me, fix me

Pierre Michaux- Inventor of the Bicycle

I am a reporter of the pink sky
Bicycle riding tyrant
I fear the disappearance of my reflection on the lake

Just let me know where you've been, Pierre
I will be up to no good
Track marks on your papers

Your invention is happening somewhere else, Pierre
Nobody in your bed
I will die all alone

You will arrive and not know anyone
I will share my bicycle
We will pedal through the ceiling of veils and lace

Oh, Pierre take notes on this sunset
I have had time alone to be scared
Now it is your turn

Dig your wooden fingers into each handle
1862, Pierre
You're old

Paisley

Paisley sheets
With the desire to engage in the daily controversy between the white panels above
and the wooden support system below

The breath of flame greeting a cylinder of scented wax leaves a sticky film beneath every footstep
Lingering between a dresser and thinner fabrics

Children tumble outside
The window screen leaks every shriek and sheltered giggle
A mothers reminder of hygiene before supper echoes throughout this room

It has all melted
That scented cylinder placed on top of that maple wood dresser has stretched to every corner

Beneath paisley sheets
Taking in every sly comment mixing in the atmosphere
Eyes closed
The film creeping up your ankles

Good night

Feet are waving