Rolling Rooms

There are no demands, requests, deadlines,
	it's all in my head
there are no weights on my shoulders
	pressing me into the earth
heavy weights in the heart
	drag you down
but all the voice and tongue of it
	all in the head

eyes can be a million places
in and out of time
in and out of bed

but all the views are veil-covered
	by who you are - no
	sight is clean, untainted

the world we know
	is all in the head

and no two worlds are the same
the shifting view
the pressing weight of years
	is all we have

skinblade			drownwave
rockrolling		no save		redeye
	
	unsainted

we all hold the gun
suitcases packed with dearth.

Collected Works
Return to Collections all
next poem