Empty Court

No one seems to have time for me,
but for anyone else it's overflowing.
No one seems to be able to talk;
they're always coming or going.

Am I plagued with disease that radiates through?
Am I that displeasing to talk or listen to?
Am I that unattactive that they must save their eyes from such strain?
Am I so desperate that transparent's the pain?

I want to reach out and do for all,
but it's just me, the court, and ball.
I want to be part of somebody's whole.
I want someone to accept my soul.

Memories flood my head,
of pleasant things never said;
pretending everything was dandy;
knowing now it never can be.

Just take each bit for what it's worth,
and forget about my place on Earth.
After all, magic flows from my wrist.
Fuck this! The bottom line is

I am lonely.

August 30, 1994

Final Appeal

The defendant, your honor,
who now stands before you,
pleads not guilty,
and would like to countersue.

This lifetime trial has grown quite old.
The defendant has been wrongly accused.
It's one thing to base suspicion on past record,
but not when another's history is used.

Living daily before the jury
is not at all deserved.
My client was pending sentence
before the papers were even served.

The defendant requests a countersuit
on grounds of mental cruelty.
The plaintiff refuses to open his eyes.
Perhaps, that maks him guilty.

Accusations:
Mind games? Quite innocent.
Betrayal? Unfounded!

All charges are absurd! You've got the wrong prospect.
Perhaps, if you'd better eye the evidence--
You've created a victim not a suspect!

Please take the defendant off of death row.
She's being tortured by this life sentence.
You have the power to grant her happiness,
why not bring her justice?

August 24, 1994

Me, Always

I wonder if you realize
what you do with those eyes.

You control
with that damn roll,
yet,
when I'm upset,
to prevent regret,
I always try,
in spite of the why.
It's always me.
Don't you see?
I take the first step,
and look what I get!

You could try a little.
You know my heart is brittle.
You know what hurts.
You could be alert,
but refuse.

August 8, 1994