Speak Easy
My mind is an after hours speakeasy, a wild tumbleweed Calculating, meticulous 33 x 2 - that’s 66 The number I associate with underlying (and) penetrating, splitting psychosis On any given day, I make my (own) self sick (Becoming) Completely unhinged, losing my grip (Always) surrounded by people pleasing hypocrites Wound so tight, yet light as a feather Don’t you ever want to get (be) better? What would they think? Her, him, he or she? (You’re) Always running from what you used to be What would they think? As they go tit for tat Life’s a ballgame - batter up - it’s your turn at bat round for round? Hit back cold, hard - the real essence of your soul won’t ever be found What would they think? If you decided to be free? Roaming and roaming, thoughtlessly Free from the ever growing bigotry Waking up from the cookie cutter make believe Cluttered with juxtapositional houses, white picket fences, manicured lawns Magnolia ...