One More Time, Forever

The only way to write is electricity, the only way a flashing dagger in the western sky …

With books I walk
and a man points at me
With glasses of wine I fly
but the moon points at me
because I am unable to share
I am unable to give out
I am unable to free-up-the-fucking-style
I am free to be surrounded by heads covered in emanems
surrounded by colors that change with the season
with the amount your lover snores
equaling some of the provisions of masks in lights
of darkness in desert clouds

The only way to write is electricity
The only way a flashing dagger in the western sky
I am unable to be the be that I came here to be
in December
in the marked rhyme of the orchid in my lover’s hair
in the fucked up math that took my sentimentalist
in the hushed voices
that do not whisper to me
in the middle of the night

Hush the palm trees
Hush the cherry bombs
Hush the hush

Once upon a time
I was on the way to findin’ my mind, and

I am afraid of the last drop of wine
especially when Jeff Buckley’s around
singin’ that final-glass-of-wine-shit
laughing from the grave
one more time
forever

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