I want to get to know each and every one of you.
My eyes are red and blood is going blue.
What’s in my veins does not always flow to my brain.
Hurting to reach out and stick like glue
with a “Hello” and “How are you?”
Where did I drop it? Abandoned the ship.
Mute from me, and feeling mutiny, until you lost it –
I, trying to run and stop it, but the gun says “go.”
On your mark, understanding died when they shot it.
I listen to you, but who is there left for me to confide in?
I once was the only one you barked to.
Everyone becomes a stranger to me.
Faces I want to know.
A better place to go.
I never wanted to string you along, and now I’m alone.
No matter how I’ve cleaned up, my open arms still stretch too short.
Only allowed to share memories of abscesses,
and the only dates pertain to court.

Sing it, scribe it. Wine and dine it.
Bleeding my heart and baring it only seems to elicit staring.
Walking an old path and feeling the wrath /
of a new future and a theatrical past /
that I can’t ride and fly back
to harmony.
Please just fly me home.

Daze pileing up and taking their toll on my stance.
it’s nice to feel the warmth of lovers to dance with.
Like a tree falling in the woods with no one around, just as good is a
solitary kiss.
I’m still riding the bus, to the stage to swagger and cuss / with an audience.
Either bloodlust or lovelust,
it’s something for the kids to pump their fists.
Seems, you make art for them to read and they’ll think you can part
the Red Sea.
Fine with me that it’s you or me they wanna see cater to a need –
ink penned with a purpose to end pain, starting scrutiny.
You win some and lose some.
The culture seems gruesome.
Shooting for a threesome, I’ll take a twosome
of Free Will pills,
to enter a Matrix that contains some patience.

– written by MIKE PHELAN O’TOOLE

COPYRIGHT 2011 by Michael Phelan O’Toole