everything is mixed up

drowning out my own voice

frightened by the shadows I alone cast

the weary catches me in every gust

my jacket is the only warmth I hold

standing still, as life blurs past

noise endless noise, noise without victory,

In the face of constant games the world lays

no well seems deep enough,

no cliff high enough, to roll away

Colors blur—red blue red

"Goodnight, thunderbolt kid," words slipping

"Goodbye, thunderbolt kid?"

Memories fading into mere images,

never ready to let go, but maybe to stop saying yes.