1. |
A Thread, My Hope
02:15
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(Instrumental)
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Snakes slither their way into my apartment hiding in the compartments of my dresser that are barren due to the wasteland of dirty laundry that my room has become as they make their way to the creases of my heart that once held my first love. Their hiss remind me of the bliss that hasn't come due to the financial burdens I have yet to overcome and the relationships i once knew that have become undone. I feel like I'm disappearing, becoming an empty shell like these shed snake skins laying around because these people walking straight through my bones sure makes it seam like I'm alone. Am I becoming a ghost?
The snakes surround my soul circling another victim they plan to control. Their slender bodies take hold of my neck restricting my breath to the gasps a man takes before death. My fingers grow cold as my mind recalls the moment I walked away from grace too ashamed to face my demons and ever since I've been dodging the truth that disapproves where my heart has been dwelling among these snakes that create a stronghold on thoughts, and feelings, and everything I've been missing. Oh, has my time come because I feel like I've just begun. Am I becoming a ghost?
We are ghosts.
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3. |
Unpaid Dues
04:35
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What was once a couple's first home is now filled with desolate bedrooms full of darkness from months of unpaid electric bills.
The world stands still as a husband's dance with the bottle becomes his family's thorn as they are torn into bitter fragments of the American dream.
And now he hasn't been seen for days. Lost in the haze, his soul has ran away.
It's searching for a way to break the chains of addiction that has burdened him with affliction.
Now he's lost in a city too busy to see in the corners of the shadows where despair needs mercy.
What was once a factory filled with hope and provision is now a skeleton plastered with broken windows and shattered dreams for a family of 3.
Despite this setback, Love holds them together as the husband starts searching for a new job,
but the bills keep adding up and the bank has given up on waiting for the payments and forecloses.
No family for miles, no funds for an apartment they search for shelter as their hearts yearn for peace.
Now they're lost in a city too busy to see in the corners of the shadows where despair needs mercy.
A man who's tasted the dust of 'The Great Depression' was preceded in death by his wife and his son,
so all that's left in his lonely life is his breath, his dog and memories of loved ones.
He got sick for a time and couldn't pay the bills and stopped taking his pills to try to offset the expense of living in his broken neighborhood
he just couldn't get by so he left to find a way out of his debt and no one has seen him since.
He is lost in a city too busy to see in the corners of the shadows where despair needs mercy.
We're lost in a city too busy to see past our front doorstep where our brothers and sisters are in agony.
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4. |
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5. |
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Spiderwebs hold the corners of the walls together in the rooms with floorboards that creak when the wind blows, collecting dust on the mantle where a candle used to glow before darkness showed it's face and scared away a lonely man who took shelter there. Broken thoughts become his only friend as his home becomes inhabited by ghosts that host masquerades floating from room to room chasing mice with a broom that was left behind in the kitchen. His mind becomes consumed by everything he saw in the midst of those four walls, shuttering as he remembers
There are skeletons in the closet dancing for a weak man's demise
Their bones rattle and shake as his father's heart breaks.
Now he's running as far away as he can so he can forget his sins that he left in the sacred place, but the mice chased out the front door whisper in his ear, "don't you hear, it's drawing near." Weakness turns to fear, as his tears fall to the earth making little rivers that flow towards the ocean where the leeches plan to suck his soul dry. As he is swept away by the currents of his weeping, a crow swoops low dragging this man's burdened body to a nest in the trees with parchment as leaves containing words in languages unknown.
The crow speaks, "I neither sow or reap, yet sleep in peace, I never forget my first love." The man confesses,
"There are skeletons in my closet dancing for my demise
Their bones rattle and shake as my father's heart breaks.
There isn't much more I can take, how can I make the ghosts go away?
How can I burn the bones that led me astray?"
Taking a minute to think, the crow leans in close with his beak and whispers, "Coming clean isn't as easy as it seems but to truly live, you must die to the bones you hide. They've haunted your dreams, hidden in the seams of your scars deep within your heart. Go, my friend, and make amends"
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6. |
The Lonely Canvas
02:23
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Last week I decided I wasn't going to sleep until I got it right.
This week I was diagnosed as an insomniac
Sometimes I just don't know how to act,
or maybe I do but don't want to take back the years I spent in denial,
pretending nothing was wrong.
I've been reading this book but it's so confusing
with all it's thought-provoking imagery
that people tell me will be the end to my misery.
But I just don't know.
I've been praying for years, or so I think,
but nothing has stopped my vessel from being prone to sink.
I feel like I'm whispering secrets to the wind that settle
with the dust on the back-porch of an abandoned farmhouse.
My words, buried in dust.
Sleepless nights meet my restless heart with
reckless abandoned cursing me with more time
to tear apart my soul.
Piece by piece I unravel my inner-workings
with continuous self-discovery, discovering my true colors.
I'm but a painting, unfinished.
I long to be touched with thick brush-strokes, filling in the white spaces
with vibrant colors. I'd become a piece of abstract art.
People will stare and ponder and think and wonder what it means
but only the artist will know what he envisioned for me.
Back to reality.
I'm still broken, a canvas waiting to be found by a
creative something or other. Until then, I'll lay here in my bed
and follow the cracks on the ceiling with my eyes until the sun rises
above the horizon.
And I'll just keep reading, hopelessly searching for rest.
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7. |
Streets
04:15
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These streets mimic the times I spent in my backyard, still searching for my regards to this Heaven and Hell.
Only time will tell whether the sticks and twigs will hold strong in the forts I built in the trees back on the farm when I was thirteen or whether I can keep my sanity in this dying world instead of crumbling like a leaf in the fall as it litters the driveway of my mediocre lifestyle.
I've been wandering awhile on these streets that lie between yesterday and forever passing fellow wanderers and motorized herds of people with destination but despite new faces and new places I feel spaces between who I am and where I need to be.
So what's my destiny?
Everything I ever need is right in front of me, so what am I still searching for? What wilI I ever find without walking out my front door?
Questions without answers become thoughts filled with anger. Am I
just a beggar looking for an easy way out?
My eyes are having a hard time seeing through these darkened days filled with smoke from the fires I started years ago in the pastures of my innocence.
All that's left is brokenness and the same questions I had as a kid building forts in the trees in the backyard of distant memories.
I need to flee the dried up cisterns from the backyard of my youth and streets of today and swallow up eternity.
I need to find a new song to tap my feet to, I need to shed the rhythm of this old tune.
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Wishing Well Sioux Falls, South Dakota
Wishing Well is a Spoken Word band from Sioux Falls, South Dakota.
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