The Smiths

The jar of insanity comes
and bears you with a bat and
leaves you hopeless
on the ground and
just when your about to get up
and change things
it comes back
and curb stomps you.
It seems as though
the lid has blown off and
can't be found

Where are you to help find it?
Over there?
Oh yea
I can't see you
The brick wall is
100 miles thick.

It's like a picket fence
with a neighbor
just high enough to see
their eyes
and to talk to them
only hoping everything
is normal
and their not some
serial killer.
It's small talk
with the unspoken
trust
that your supposed to know them
and trust their outside image.

But, who really are your neighbors
and are they really the
Mr. and Mrs. Smith that you know
them by?

I think I saw Mrs. Smith
coming from the Jones's
house when Mr. Jones
was the only one there.
Mrs. Smith was in
there for a really
long time. I don't think
they need that long to talk
about what they had for
dinner last night.

Who am I to judge though.
I give everything into one person
until they prove me wrong.
People are trustworthy
and mistakes are inescapable

There is a lot of
judgment to be made.
It's easy to make
the wrong judgment,
to press too much,
and to do the wrong thing
the unperfect thing.

Then what do
you
do after
you
feel the
wrong judgment
has been made?
It can get pretty
complected.
Words, feelings, actions
all in there own domain.

Sometimes it's easier to
play it by ear
and let the notes
play in their recorded sequence
until the song is finished.
And right now
it seems as though
the piano is out of tune
and nearing
the end of its song.