Even if you stand up straight
it can't untangle what's within
fingers interlock
what a conscience never will
lines drawn invisibly
only exist
in a very small sense
ice sized cubes can still take
forever to melt
answers can be there
but where
oh where
the
hell
is
there?
Even if you walk don't run
footprints tend to follow where you go
the shavings an eraser makes
never taste like the past
'cause it's gone
words can slither farther
than they're meant to
and they do
a garage is not a healthy place
to leave parts
of
who
you
are.
Even if you felt how I feel
or could read what isn't written
and sing what's never been sung
would my ears unlock the door
to the sound
a beating heart makes
when it's left out in the rain
three
centuries
ago?
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