the moon is white
and cold.....
and filled with holes

Thank you Paul Simpson for freeing my mind...
IN this alchoholic state
the luxury of space
the lines of every satellite,
streaking across the sky
remind me that I cannot let myself forget
that I matter,
that some form of who I am has made a difference,
made a connection,
made something worth remembering
or being remembered.

I cannot give up in pain
or forget who I am.
I cannot ask that others become the
people I would like them to be.
that every notion I had or have had
will one day be real in some time
and space
and even if its just the moon
and its only me singing
that its not an empty moon
and that its full of hope
and I am not that stupid little kid
and that I have feelings that matter
while the guitars play
and the drums linger
and my tiny self
is free for just one moment
called forever
and forever can last as long as I want it
or need it to.
I forgive you
I release you
I let go of the part of you
that I hate
I have lived too long
I have sung the wrong song,
I have become the thing I hate the most
adn forgotten where I started.
Don't forget to love this even
when you don't rythme.
even when you don' t make it....
even when you can no longer fake it
and the guitar plays
and the moon is full of holes
and white....