rest does not come easy
when a saboteur of dreams
aka enemy of the state
infiltrates the perimeter
at the strike of midnight
a master of arrangement
altering sequence of events
turning reveries into flashbacks
and daybreak into heartache
april two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I know it’s late
but I don’t want to go home
—I call from a payphone
to say I’m on my way
the front door light is on
collecting inquisitive insects
too numerous to count
today I could use my voice
to turn off that damn light
but back then things were fairly simple
except for killing myself
just to get inside
may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve
it was supposed to become easier
(as I get older)
and in some ways it has
thanks in no part
to google girls and their entourage
disguised as tiny dancers
searching for a better discotheque
out of focus for a reason
but dead set on seeing things
(as they are until the very last sunrise)
I look past the mirror ball
twinkling inside your irises
exposing newly found worlds
in my next world everyone grows
younger with each passing heartbeat
dancing (as they say)
like it’s nineteen seventy-six
how many times have you told me
not to cry when meaningful ballads
happen our way
how many times have I wanted
to be just like you
dressed in star-studded jumpsuits
and sporting sexy determination
october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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