the song starts,
the coffee kicks in,
the sad factory starts
making things we
don't need at all.
I turn off the TV,
accept the scream,
live through the dream,
eat the forest,
orbit out to the sea
that was a magnet.
there is always an exception
to want and anymore,
just ask the store clerk,
while pouring cinnamon
on your back window.
I won't let you in,
I won't let you down,
I won't let you listen
to the reasons
of right.
sharp days
and dull nights
where if my eyes are open
I am tired
yet shining forward
for the foreseeable future.