Vault

Vault.

I can feel you
rolling over me,
testing the resistance.
Your words pouring down,
looking for a crack,
to pry and break
and prove.
Well, I want to give you a clue:
make three turns to the right,
stop at kindness.
That’s all I ever wanted you to do.

You see,
I know every idea isn’t good.
If I could stack up the after thoughts,
I’d put them in a box with a bow,
and leave them at your door.
Years of words,
too heavy, too late,
dropping short and breaking into pieces,
all over the floor. And those looks
you gave me,
always sweeping up the mess.
Everything, gave me away wrong,
so I just gave it away first.
All that petty change,
I had just found on the ground,
And you tucked it away so righteously.

We’ve been down this road now,
close enough to touch,
everywhere, the big blue world out there,
and I’ll just play the part right.
But it’s not too late to turn,
twice around to the left,
and stop,
by that old Mission on the side of the road.
Do you like that sort of thing?
And if you can’t find the words
to sing along the way,
don’t worry, you’re what the song is about.
And if the shades of light,
never fall just right,
and your brushes dry in the wind,
just hold still,
and I’ll paint you the real masterpiece,
all of my time here, in one frame.

I’m tired of wondering over these borrowed bones,
waiting under this strange skin,
praying to hear my name
from anywhere else.
My back is breaking,
holding up the walls of a scripted world.
My knees are bending,
fighting off the pull from the ground below.
My body is bitter,
squeezing out the rats in the middle.
And my hope is begging,
pleading for you to turn and,
aim for me,
as hard as you can,
when you finally fall.

Or,
we could just ditch this party,
you know?
Leave these rags on the floor,
and kick them every morning.
I’m right here. And no ever knew more.
Just turn your head once to the right,
slightly, softly, stop perfectly,
see me.
Crack me.
And we’ll spill out into the fields,
all the colors pouring down around us,
into their only place.
I’ll gather up all the days
I let slip away
and hide them in your pockets.
I’ll pay your debt to the ground
with shiny polished silver dollars.
And scatter the words in our tracks:
I knew you, I knew you,
and you knew me too.