salvaging anything

neglected til the end, my prodigal spirit

how can it ever fly?

i pass through mountains

looking for an oasis in the sands of deserted dreams

a junkyard filled with visions

some salvageable, some stripped clean

hungering for something more than this

she changed her dreams like she changed her name

less than ordinary

my mind crumbling under the thought of her

fading away like ozone

fog, thicker than peanut butter

I thought I could see the truth

and make the right choices

maybe I didn’t use a number 2 pencil?

right answers- just a clerical error?

lost in a system that’s devised not to work

I wake up thinking of her,

and a way out

contemplating a way back home.

sometimes you have to simply turn around

it’s the shortest way back.