The Interstate

I miss the rain for I’m a thunder
How could they expect me to thrive in this barren land?

“Mr. Robert he says, ‘It’s all in the head!’
Tell me, Phaedrus, what’s good, is it Idaho?”

Torch

I spent last night trying to wrap my mind around
the things I thought were true, but are otherwise.
If I could only see the clock count backwards
the days and maybe then restore my path.

I ask him gently: how could I become this shell of a boy who once knew love?
The house is empty but my mind is brimful
I stare at walls and ceilings – where am I going to?

If I trade my soul would I finally get whatever it is that’s mine…
If I had eyes to see
Would I leave it all behind and shed those tears?
If you could only see the beast you’ve made of me
Leave it in the porch and torch the hopes in me