When you find the meaning of life
what do you do with it?
Nobody will believe you.
And even further, will you believe yourself?
The world is not spinning
we are spinning around it.
The water is not wet
the sun is not bright
and the leaves don't fall from the trees.

My hurricane heart trembles and shakes
on the surface
the beating and rushing of blood
permeates my flesh
as I shut up and enter storm doors
the night light is pale
like summer ale
drinking itself to sleep
with pills and fills it glass
my nerves work together
not in sentences, but circles
tracing touches back to fingers
bringing pain back to surface
the light and heat and pinprick principles
turn around and take their ground
itching as I fall asleep
sleeping as I wake
and puking from the red wine

Faster
faster
cheaper and again
America cries without warning
here and now we all seek a future
in a haven of dust
in a sky filled with particles and icicles
airplanes and flying saucers

like I said, my heart shakes
and my muscles weaken
I remember the youth I had
and it takes away from who I am
standing straight tilting head back to the ground
eyes to the clouds
and ears to the sound
I fall over and laugh
as the quicksand grabs my shoes
I rest my arms and relax