Aside

Swallowed by the Cracks*

8253825-old-lock-on-a-doorWell I woke in mid-afternoon cause that’s when it all hurts the most
I dream I never know anyone at the party and I’m always the host
If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts
You can never escape, you can only move south down the coast

——————————-

lake-bled-reflections-barry-price  I am an acrobat swinging trapezes through circles of flame
If you’ve never stared off in the distance, then your life is a shame
And though I’ll never forget your face,
Sometimes i can’t remember my name

——————————–

20130606-220748And the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings
And there is always one last light to turn out and one last bell to ring
And the last one out of the circus has to lock up everything
Or the elephants will get out and forget to remember what you said

12352308——————————–
And the ghosts of the tilt-a-whirl will linger inside your head
And the ferris wheel junkies will spin there forever instead
When I see you a blanket of stars covers me in my bed
All the blue light reflections that color my mind when I sleep

——————————-

alone2And the lovesick rejections that accompany the company I keep
All the razor perceptions that cut just a little too deep
Hey I can bleed as well as anyone, but I need someone to help me sleep
So I throw my hand into the air and it swims in the beams
It’s just a brief interruption of the swirling dust sparkle jet stream

——————————

Oregon Coast Lighthouse from Hwy 1Well, I know I don’t know you and you’re probably not what you seem
But I’d sure like to find out
So why don’t you climb down off that movie screen
When the last king of Hollywood shatters his glass on the floor
And orders another
Well, I wonder what he did that for

oldenvatnet-norway——————————
That’s when I know that I have to get out cause I have been there before
So I gave up my seat at the bar and I head for the door
We drove out to the desert just to lie down beneath this bowl of stars
We stand up in the palace like it’s the last of the great pioneer town bars
We shout out these songs against the clang of electric guitars

—————————–
You can see a million miles tonight
But you can’t get very far

*David and David

baby-owl-learning-to-fly-peter-brannonfinger touching nose of baby

The words are an edited version of Mrs. Potter’s Lullaby by the Counting Crows.  Feeling a little crazy this morning so thought I would put this up instead of my rants!!

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6 thoughts on “Swallowed by the Cracks*

  1. Intense stuff! Hard to handle your dreams are like nightmares to me…take care and hope things start to look up. Thank you so much for visiting, reading and “liking” my stories!

    • Robin,
      If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts.
      It is not about nightmares. It is about our mind. It is a construct of images of the past, which dont exist.
      Thank you dear friend.
      Glad you got away from that ass!!!

  2. Pingback: Better than Freshly Pressed | theseeker

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