Slipping Into My Dream

First, there was a leaf
And it sailed on a stream
Sailed far away, as a paper boat
Floating in my dreams
As strangers by the sidewalk
Drifting away, and astray

There is no way
You and I, hear each other
With these silent poems, unsent letters
Flowers with no scent
Turns to be fire
And there goes her bloom into the boom

And the bus is burning
With her feet spread on the seat
In the front, as flames expire on her skin
With smears of oil and coal
And a noose tighten on her throat
With beads of sweat on her forehead
Tiny beads of dew and death of infinite stars

Another picture
Of the knife against the throat
And a head banging against the tile
Was this a crime scene or a cry for help?
It’s like life contained in Polaroids

The more I try to rein this tongue
I end up spilling more of its secrets
And the troubles of being nice
Straining this beauty, bondage
How am I going to toughen up this nice piece of S... muscle I call my heart?
Is there a way for a transplant?

This is the rebel
Of the painting against the painter
Too many lighters for one cigarette
Too many hearts for one mini-man

Take it with a kiss on the rim of a cup
And a grain of dirt upon a glass coffin.