Where I Started

Far off in a deep sleep

A notion comes to mind.

The guys who play for keeps

Have new homes to find.

Ugly kids are getting older,

Dwarfs can’t reach a thing.

The nights around here are getting colder

Like some sad story martyrs sing.

I can’t find that other sock,

And my breath is garlic chalk,

But that’s life beneath the rock

Where suicide is all the talk.

Those fucks who hurt my ears

Who ride out their death wishes

Want nothing more than to keep me here

Sleeping with the fishes.

But there will come a day

When in their wrath and haste,

“Freedom from it”—words I’ll say,

While cashing in on waste

Beyond here, for now, is nothing.

Time is bent and droops.

And just like all the running,

My problems seems to loop

—Brian Geisler