There’s a stop sign in my rearview mirror

               On Russell and College…

   And I’m tired of 7 11’s with blaring

                       Fluorescent lights

             And fights

And lonely people asking for cigarettes at bus stations

And sex that hurts

             And having to walk home to piss

And searching for eternal bliss

      And giving up on life for 5

And filling empty spaces with smoke

             And forgetting faces –

         And remembering them.

And that café where my life took place

        Slurred by headlights

                         And sized up by caffeine

                  And rock climbing nights

    And I’m tired of loving and losing

                  And losing to love

    And feudalism

                   Transforming into capitalism

    And Marxism existing solely in my ego

              As we go

       (or try to go)

                      with the flow

   And I’m tired of craving cookie dough

                  And coffee

   And getting toffee stuck in my teeth

And I’m tired of the hills being so far away

     And perverts telling me to pray

And nobody caring what I have to say

And having a soulmate for a day

            And chasing dreams downstream

        While they sit in salmon’s mouths swimming up

       And lilacs and heart attacks

    And the scone man

                           And Dan

               And Eucalyptus

               Fraud

          And pink and blue and Hugh

                                 And Dew

    That won’t let me sit on the grass in the morning

                           And mourning

             Imbellishments of intelligences

Governments lying

                           And spying

                        And crying

       Goddamn black cars and movie stars

     And trips to Mars

   When we don’t have enough money to survive

      And they tell me to strive

                                    For happiness,

To walk down this street with finesse

        And then maybe too

                       Will have shiny hair.

And I'm tired of migration
          and globalization
                  and needing solidification
just to solidify the visions of
              MY mind
and mythology being so damn unkind,
and intellectual babbling bullshit
        screaming elitism
    and hyterical madness
mixing sex and death
  and Aztecan sacrifice,
and rolling Death to
      be blown or stoned
  just for a hit of the jay,
And when I hear him heartlessly say
                    I Love you
                            HOWL
as you lay handcuffed to a
        cop-car
when your future is so far
And I'm tired of
Calla stems breaking
and you taking
        my soul away.
This is
    my Song in Struggle