Jeff Wrubel

When we fall into bed with a heart full of lead
Shining mind now a tomb projected onto the moon
Dream theater a thread tying off the day's end
Mind tide and typhoon wash away the blue gloom
...

To dream without sleeping
and scar without healing
Exist through the memories
and remember a feeling
...

Drain your whiskey bottle into the ocean
Refill it with your saltwater tears
Divided, or concentrated
Medicinal influx, cathartic exodus
...

Graying memory replaces finite hopes light
Paul Revere on a midnight ride
Skewed legend supplants perfect hindsight
While Israel Bissell is left behind
...

To write can be most inconvenient
the moment
when the world keeps pace
but your time becomes lenient
...

When there's love in your blood,
then there's blood in your love
in the light of the moon she stood
shovel in hand and hand in glove
...

Everything known outside oneself is secondhand
Secondhand clothes worn on store bought bones
Recycled bones trained for carousels of sand
The tide and time eroding what we're told to own
...

The air is cold now,
but we'll refinish the deck
come spring
the wood will shine smooth
...

We're dancing on the scaffold
with our demons in a dark club
to the warm melody
of whiskey and blood
...

The human experience is greater than a burning heart's cauldron of blinded, spilling love
Greater than the sniper clarity of pinpoint, unflinching in paralysis, droning hate
Greater than the shallow mud slick of mortal fear that seeds faith's hollowed grove
Greater than the underground aquifer of rational thought and austere scientific fate
...

Madness equates to the absence of rationality
Love is madness
Violence is madness
Faith is madness
...

Two of us alone throwing color at our shadows
Cigarette smoke, just like that we'd drift away
I never looked from the downpour to the rainbow
Or seized a moment, never asked of you to stay
...

Remember
As a kid I'd sit in the grass
a breeze drifting my dreams
into the future
...

Paralysis of the brain
Cortex to spine
Limbs hung like vine
An empty page
...

Your skin is a canvas

Your mind an opera
...

When your fading glow darkens a lover

The silhouette draws a tattoo on your skin
...

Language is the first art you learn
Symbols for the silent films
Inflection paints the sets
The Cinematography
...