Sutra

You could go through the graveyard
If you
Jumped the fence or pushed
The fence in
But instead you ride beside it
Steady speed wishing peace
To every stone you see
No way a ghost
Would hang around here
Just rocks across
From the city bus last stop
Why the fuck would a ghost
Hang around here
You get covered in the city real
Lock your bike to a water pipe
And go in to buy liquor
That ends up putting you
In an awkward position
To say the bone bare least
But try to sharply compensate
And in ten minutes you miss
Three days of lonesome rain

Nightdreams and marescapes

And in dreams I can’t work numbers
In dreams I know it’s wrong
There is a lion in the side yard
Of my childhood home
The upstairs of my apartment
Is in my childhood home
And I can’t work numbers
And I know it’s wrong
An unexpected visitor
A screaming intruder on the porch
Of my childhood home
A horror secret buried across
From my childhood home
And I can’t work my phone
And I know that it’s wrong