Words of Wednesday 12.06.2006

Beat.
Tired.
Dragged out.
Worn.
Walked over.

I am what I eat.
What does exhausted taste like?

You look at me and wonder how

you question why
. you doubt me
Yet struggle do I keep my sight
. and look upon you
. so happy, so bright
. and I wonder myself.
. HOW?
. WHY?

I love to play
. Performance, my love, my home
But everyone leaves
. And I have no crew
. No roadies
. And I am dismantled
. I act my age

A sign of deference
. A show of love
. or of not letting go
The moments flew on broken wings
. And I held it shining in my hand
. Burned to the bone

And now I struggle to stand

But I don't let go.

Hold on.

And tearing down
. an act of love
I must do it in my way
. it is my temple
. it is my ceremony
. it is my service

And so I load out
. my altar
. my vestment
. my accouterment
. my gear
. my stage

And weary, worn,
. I take my mobile church home...