where i'm at
where i'm at
two displays and anchored flat
arms forward, tilted back
pens and coffee taken black
this desk, this chair
going where?
going where?
where i'm at
where i'm at
two displays and anchored flat
beige desk, black chair
what I need, I'm headed there
this black market outlet where
some clothing rests I will possess
to improve my chances of success
driving through a maze of clowns
clear across this teeming town
on decomposing roads I fly
towards a jacket I have in my mind
painted faces people wait
i pass them by and contemplate
what I need, I'm headed there
going where?
this desk, this chair
computer screen and coffee cup
i see myself reaching up
extend my arm, hand and brush
a broad stroke carves this canvas such
that orange paint begins to track
the smooth lines of a woman's back
smooth lines of a muse I seek
while omnipresent critics leak
debilitating insults there
throughout my brain and going where?
two displays and anchored flat
beige desk, chair is black
tomorrow I'll be on the road
donned that jacket but still cold
up the five and towards the bay
where the muse I seek I know to stay
I tap green shoes to songs I know
i've heard a million times
practiced, I know all the words
and exude them all though not assured
through the breezy night I drive
I'll never know until I try
still heading north I muss my hair
going where?
the muse's lair
where she's at
where she's at