I keep looking for the way
Instead of living the way
You can’t swim in a textbook
But can’t some words fan a flame?
In truth, these words are limited
It’s gone like a whisper
What makes sense one second
Goes out in the next breath
It’s like catching a greased pig in hell
(Lol)
Anyway – see, gone.
Moment. Moment. Moment.
How much are you aware?
Which is aware? and who is where?
Oogie Boogie is made of bugs
And things that aren’t even there
And that’s what it feels like
The truth, as I’m aware
Everything so big and powerful
Comes apart with the wrong thread
And that’s what it feels like
Bugs inside the brain
Sometimes it’s not wrong to reason
between the living and the dead
Am I writing a poem (“or did it write me?”)
The diary of the insane?
But the logic created melody
Gods’ gift through you
If we can make music
What can’t we do?
Mah Butt Itches 
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