that song, Home, by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
and I am, considering the current status of love and life,
to that time and that feeling,
that Brooklyn summer of searching.
I've gone crazy twice since then,
fallen in love a few times,
almost died seven ways,
but kept my head above water,
still spitting sawdust.
I see it all in my fractured sleep,
a life in horizon timelines,
broken up my music, girls, memories,
burned bridges, good meals, mascots and more.
what happens when there is or are
too many years
between there and here?
no one knows, and if they did,
they wouldn't tell you
to save your life.
sharp time travel
is like having to pee
in a hospital of dreams,
and there is more to this thought,
doldrums and all,
but I will save some for only me and death.