I have nothing to wake up for –

But I won’t sleep forever –

Only for awhile.

The dream dances out –

Out and away from my troubled, empty mind –

And i chase it every night

Just for it to be gone in the morning.

When did I wake up for something – or –

When did I wake up with you?

The sands of life blew in and buried me –

I suffocate to your past –

The sun burns where the wind hurt me.

I don’t get to see you smile anymore,

except in pictures of Dieppe and Ottawa

and those towns just hurt me now.

Are you staring at the other side of this wall?

Or do you get to see right through me now?

My heart feels bloated,

hollow.

I’ll let the ink dig through my arms

while the music pours through my ears and brain

and I write words on faux-white electric screens

that should be said to your crying, longing innocence.

I bury the bird in bodies of broads –

scratch that –

I bed down with sophisticated,

beautiful,

sassy or sweet women.

I drown your ghost in other ladies’

laughter,

endlessly laughing,

until the manic chorus puts me off balance –

my head matching my heart and purpose.

I’m not The One –

I’m not even a whole one –

and not everyone gets to be the quarterback.

I don’t need you to feel whole –

your doubt, your sadness and your beautiful love –

but I’ve never felt so unfinished,

or maybe so,

finished.