Windows and Doors

CHAPTER 1

CHECKING OVER MY SHOULDER

With pen and tree I sit here trying to make you fit my imagery.

My instrument in hand I can make you into anything. I can even make you love me.

Every time I begin the scenery in my mind changes but the ending is always the same.

With each attempt I make to nourish my soul it seems I end up starving it more

Each day I pick up where I left off. I change the story and spoken verse but it’s always the same. It’s always you! It’s always you!

I do not know why I allow my soul to swallow me. I continue to feed the fantasies

Hoping the feelings will pass I choose to ignore them. Checking over my shoulder, maybe I have won this time, there is no monster behind me.

Only to turn around to see it in front of me.

I don't have anything left to fight with I only have this pen. It isn’t much consolation but it’s all I have. What shall I do when there is no more ink in my quill?



LOOKING FOR THE OTHER SIDE


There are days when I can’t get enough, I think I might wither up and die.

Next thing I know, I’m tryin’ like to hell to run, find some solitude, find some security on the other side.

I run to the other side
I can’t tell you. How can I?
I never know till it’s too late

When I come home and you’re cryin’ and I start tryin’ like hell to run to the other side

When heroes and idols become untouchable

Friends kept busy with their own struggle for happiness
Kid Fears, Crazy Games all have the similar features of a Ghost.
If I Wanted To, I could stay but my Hands Are Tied. It seems to be the History Of Us, of me.

To afraid to tell those who’d understand the most; what’s left?

The bottle the bible and Zen don’t help anymore. There’s nothing left; I run to the other side.

It looks so much better from here. The other side looks new and bright. No one knows your name or your shame.

It’s your fear of the other side and my desire to look for it. I always come back with my tail tucked and your heart in pieces. Hurting you was the last thing I wanted.

When am I gonna learn there is nothing there for me on the other side?


Closed Doors

Runnin’ around screamin’ at closed doors and locked windows
Maybe if I lived in the right town or if I had a gimmick, maybe if I could afford to be poor
Would you open your door?

If everything I said sounded the same over and over again
If I conformed to non-conformity
If I was a little more feminine, or better yet more butch
If I spit and cursed, would you take the time to open your door?

If my life were a tragic mess of women, needles booze and pills, you’d probably wait until I was almost over all your hills..
Then you’d open you door only to make me your own martyr

If everything I said were politically motivated
If I forced my personal beleifs on anyone within earshot
If everything I said made you want to cry.. Maybe then?

Is there no room behind those closed doors for a little bit of happiness, a little REAL life ecstasy?

Your damn windows are so dirty how could my light pass through?


EMS prose (draft)

Running here and running there, no time to stop and stare.
Beep, beep, beep tones drop. Screaming through town. Danger is in the air. Danger is on the rain-slicked roads. On my way to one more call. Will I make it home? Will I become a casualty of the stupidity, drug wars or some drunk driver? Will I always have my angel riding on my truck. I can see her. She is sitting on top of the box with her feet hanging over the edge of the lightbar.
Children crying, teenagers raving, parents worry. Have I touched someone's life today? Will their lives ever be the same after I am called to care for them? Will my life ever be the same?