Mantra

I believe, I believe
my song
hums like it’s poetry

I believe
the singer
hums like poetry

I’ve been standing in the nick of time for so long
I’ve been waiting like it’s my rainbow
Someday, my song

I believe, I believe
anything
I believe
I just want to talk about myself

I feel October having its way with me again

I smell
the hum
of electricity

I believe
you
are my best friend

Someday, my song
in the nick of time
humming like poetry

8 November 1990
Age 21

Limbo (Sunday Blues)

Somehow, I’m weightless
and not for real
with exaggerated claims
of what’s mine.

Bent, turned, torn,
I’m not yet healed,
but how am I injured?
Wings that have never grown can’t be broken.

Burning in Sunday blues,
vomiting happiness like poison.
I’m still in Limbo,
in resembled darkness.

My wings grow,
stretch
beyond my flesh,
Pain is medicine.

The past has passed.
Former saviors have become mortal.
Torments I nourished starve.

But Sunday blues return:
happiness is just poison.
I’m still in Limbo.

16 December 1990
Age 21