Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

Why slap somebody's else's face when you like to slap your own
	Why remain polite with crooked strangers upon the phone
	Standing at the crossroads of my own nightmare
	I want to jump on that train of despair
	Ride my way out of here

	I'm a passenger without a destination
	Down that bridge towards hesitation
	No fear and no reservations
	Lost to this world and lost to myself
	Shards of broken glass left on that shelf

	And if my glass heart supposedly feels nothing
	Around here everybody's a friendly stranger
	In love with the loveless and that's the danger
	Carrying all those burdens except their own
	Smashing up that busy downtown pay phone

	And sometimes I find a dime or two
	In search of the time I give to you
	Your empty faces for the system
	Another dollar for a number
	Don't call yourself a victim

	Why slap my face when I can spit on yours
	Another vacation house by the seashore
	A rock garden and what a bore
	Out on the balcony, such a phony
	Fake kindness and laughter from an old crony

	And if I'm a familiar stranger
	In love with love and there's none here, that's the danger
	I'd rather hightail it in front of that train
	Moving quickly in the darkness again
	Down those tracks into the night's oblivion.

	And if I find a day or two
	I'll tell the whole story to you
	Don't call me a victim
	I relented halfway with this system
	Don't call me a friendly stranger, there's no real danger.

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