Incognito as a way of desperation

Light is bright
as usual, at this time in the morning.
Songs play in the radio
last cigarette
hey, the lie survives
I got 2 more.
I'll be true to the beer
that is the last one,
just like my brain,
the last one standing in the room,
alive and questioning.
Harmonica.
Eyes, thoughts, conversations, feelings.
Incognito as a way of desperation.
Communication doesn't come that easy.
Brain goes faste than the pen.
Sip on warm beer, last one in the house,
like my last dime that I don't have the courage to bet.
I call your name.
I breathe through your voice.
Some how it keeps me alive
Some hoow you are my last hope.
Some how you are my last belief.
Some how I lie.
Some how I believe
in my fucked up brain, in my fucked up mind of denial and pain.
So confortable,
So true,
So deceiving.
The warmth of the guitar cries for you,
Just like something I wouldn't do
Should I go all the way,
and believe in the kindnes that you gave?
Behind your eyes, I see a path
a road I've never been before
and probably never allowed myself to follow,
like a yellow brik road in some sort of children's book.
What do you think I want to do?
What do you think I want to give?
What do you believe if you haven't seen anything but what your own mind tells you to believe?
I know you know the answer,
but even if we had the absolute knowledge of all forms of communication,
would we still have the power of communicating our deepest understanding
of th trickness of our own minds?
For life
For thruth
For whatever I should believe on
I believe in you.
For whatever it takes,
for whatever you belive
for whatever I believe
for whatever we don't know
for whatever we understand
or think we have the priviledge of doing it so,
I am here.in my heart and soul,
devoted to you,
for time
and for whatever it means.
T.
...
Chicago, 1998