12 String Dreams Journal
2001-09-23 10:04:48 (UTC)

The Fight

Morning came with no surprise and left no mysteries in it's
dust. Dreams dark, hopes dim, and confusion shining bright.
What will this morning bring? Who will it bring? What will
it leave behind? Who will it leave alone?

My head swims with apologizes and excuses. I try to drown
them with songs, but only succeed in creating new thoughts
that I feel the need to apologize for and justify with

"I'm sorry."

I woke up this morning and wrote down this song. I just
can't remember who to send it to.

I'm sorry I smiled last night. I'm sorry I laughed.

"I'm sorry you feel that way."


What's Fair?"

This "once upon a time" fairytale wears thin on my nerves.
My anger becomes more focused. My focus on existence fades
and blurs, mixing with my dreams then disappears completely
leaving my dreams there to shine.

"I'm sorry you feel that way."she says.

"I'm not." I say as the conversation comes to an abrupt
end. No sign, no warning, no yellow light. Just the scream
of brakes and the breaking of hearts. Chalk outlines on the
cold asphalt and diagrams showing what went wrong and who
was at fault. Sweep up the pieces. Dowse the flares.

"Move on. Nothing to see here."

"Keep it moving."