fournow

Time goes by leaving it’s stench on the road. All that falls once again must grow.

I find my fist tensing again before I sleep. In my dreams they may come rushing through my body down so deep.

Up, down, left, right all directions I hear music, although it comes and goes it may be the only one that knows.

From the ocean to the soil the sky touches all, alcohol fuels most of the turmoil and surely causes all to fall.

To touch life in the place it hurts is everything’s dream.