civil twilight // letters from the sky

Hey! what’s that sounding voice so course it makes you cry baby cry to the moon light on my boot you out of here is that fool again on his horse play in the fields of love and lust after life not flesh kills thought but inspires it to breath in and out of leisure should be stubbled upon not searched for things unseen but just got dissipointed with happiness when it decided to leave me in this forest animals encroach their ideas of what a lie should feel like home but it doesn’t know what you are before you walk out the door swings for some but not for others want what others have nothing and i have everything is not fair like they tell you it is what it is till it isn’t anymore exciting than what is over the hill that will be flattened by your question after question everything and believe everything because everything that really happened to me, happened to someone outside is trying to get inside out of themselves and who isn’t that the point of no return is where we keep going…. surely, we keep going…..?

-Parcleve

If i won the lottery, i’d give it all away

To a deserving charity, i would write a check and pay

Because for the rest of my life, as long as i’m living

I’ll know that someone, somewhere out there owes me something

Because in the age of the weeping victim, among the claims of misconceived rights

I find myself unable to take credit, for our forefathers sleepless nights

And yet i’m tempted to address the question, the one that asks ‘what about me?’

The one that twists our logic and charity, and abuses our right to be truly free

Society made me do it! it made me a senseless blob

And i, too, went to court, to receive my status in order to avoid my human job

And when i walked out of the court house, and under liberty’s bell i stood

I looked around and the world had not changed, like they said it would

So i went to the corner store to buy an early edition

and found a dollar note on the ground, in near perfect condition

It was just what i needed, so i walked inside, to find out that the poster in the window had lied

There were no early editions, no papers of any kind

Just a lottery booth, an Asian, and a counter they stood behind

I bought one ticket, and walked out the door

There were no trash cans anywhere, so i threw my receipt on the floor

I stepped past the green peace picketers, and light a cigarette

strolled past the tobacco company protests, and stepped through the movie set

I got home that morning and the first thing i did, was hide that ticket away

I put it somewhere in my room. where exactly? i’m not going to say

And to this day, ten years later, i have not touched that thing

Because i like to think, that maybe somewhere, someone out there owes me something

-Parcleve