My guitar lies still.
Silent, no music from it
can the world hear now.

She lay in the bath
warm red water surrounds her.
I’ll miss my mother.

Telephone fighting
she is thin skinned and timid.
I can’t take much more.

Two brothers and I
drink beer and love to get high.
Worlds slowly slip by.

Alice crawls on knees
following the white rabbit
down to wonderland.

Tapestries catch sun
in my window, billowing
from the ocean breeze.

Surrounded by walls
I sit and think in my room
Ready to explode.

Books of poetry
tile my floors, cover walls
circled by genius.

If we really lived
it would never worry us
to know we must die.