April gift

Please, ignore my asking
Rusty wheels and plain thrills
Parked in a parking lot
Wasting life in the backdrop
Just fading into, the color through
Bleeds into, empty eyes wasting at
A redlight stare in silence
All the youth in the violence
Of a twisted can of tin
And awoke again at green
And passed into a sunset scene

I used to plan to break
The silent breeze with my
April gift, and get any stare-straight
Right through, the curfew of a child
And its a bit tall, I intend to fly
Life's to tempting to sit and wait

I put the pennies in the dollar
And poured them in the thirsty dirt
Then the dimes into the wine
And sprayed it all over the over-vine
That grew on a termite ridden windowsill
I am a wasteful moron, only looking to thrill
This heart, filling each distant silence killed
By my rapturing lungs awaking every bird



This little piece, pieces of me
In a million shards, wasting freely
And how I pace around the greens, keenly
Aware of how it all wears down so quickly
In a trodden mind, trailing in transgression
I apologize for the sadness in my possession
It seems a waste to passer by, in every season
Empty roads are full, of memories of yellow paint
Quite and still like a perfect little day, or autumn night
And the burgundy carpet burns, and a scent to faint
To capture every memory but a few, enough to last
I gave it away, but its purpose served to make a past
Memorable enough to tell you in a tune of empty words
And memorize every name of a million fleeing black birds.