Blow Out The Candles Poem by matt fromm

now its a party, yesterdays revisited cant get drunk no more.
cant find my old buddies who were never really my frineds.
but still.., .
reckless abandon in the night.
nice resteraunts
then a can of beans.
ice cold.
winter in spring
father mutters about hair cuts and working for his wife.
pretend to decieve.
looking to retrieve.
even the government cant relieve.
now its music, genreless but still great of course.
hot thunder all through out the bar
sweat.
wondering how many more people will step on my italian shoes as i hold up the just digging on tunes.

sweet dreams later on, the studio elders inform me that the secret is glorious.
they open there mouths and part the cosmic rays that dazzle and confuse.
i wake up, see the sun, shut my eyes, then re open.
clouds again.
no longer confused, but still perplexed.
cant explain.
31 years old.
whats gonna happen?