My head is full of angels and demons
but only the demons give practical advice
and I’ve written so many pleading letters
sending them off in bottles
but the sea has never returned any.
And I ask everywhere
and all I hear is
but Faith and I never got along well.
And if anyone is going to ride to my rescue they need to have a backup plan
because I have fallen off the grid.
With little left to say and little to capture the eye
my face of sameness presses into the highway of bark
on a tree straggling at the end of the woods.
And when I dare to raise my head and look around
I see no one
only a night breeze carrying dust…
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