Seasonal Ineffective

Standard

(sun sickness)

 

Caught up in a tangle of ninety-three individual days
Circadian cycles passing in some heatstroke haze
Catch up just to fall behind
And see the water fall beneath
In our heads – the only images lies
In some dusty, dried creek
Ripples of forgetful
You take what you can get
See what you still remember
Crowded pathways of those
Just waiting for December
And we sit and wait because
The global warming feels so nice today
The ice caps can melt
But we all take swimming lessons anyway
And why look over the rim of the bomb shelter
To see what the observers have to say
Oh well
We all have to die some day

 

Ninety-three days pass
And I still don’t know when we begun
I’m just waiting for the world the end
Because I’m getting just a little sick of the sun

Reception in the Middle of Nowhere

Standard

(watchtower)

Is she always there
Standing over me
Watching as the seasons change
Over some sleepy, wondering sea
Across her face and beneath her eyes
Is always the same wistful gaze
Reflections floating like young waves
Crashing just to show their size
The air gets dry
As the music grows dreamy
Synth sounds and electric emotions
As my head gets heavy beneath me
Roads pass by
And signs grow far out of distance
The radio changes with the reception –
Before we hit the chorus
And I sit looking out the rearview mirror
The radio tower lights blinking at me
Like a watch tower searching for a signal
And I wonder
If I might’ve left it on the interstate
And that’s why the music sounds so abysmal
And the static that crackles is its own accusatory finger
Blaming me for not trying harder
To get it back