Where are my friends, where can they be? They are all running away from me...

[blankwallman]

Well, let me say this: I am running away from them. Maybe I have gotten a higher opinion of myself and how I want to be treated, or maybe I am giving up on who I used to be. I am doing something, that is for sure, I am retracting, contracting, all-a-round tracting of all shapes and sizes.

My memories always smell so sweet,
my life smells like day old meat
somehow, someway
between now and later
I spice them up, get them dressed for the show
They parade through my brain, like so many shriners
polished and nice, presentable and kind
Like Castro, Lenin, or Il I watch them go by
rythmicly methodicly, a show for all to see
Salute and Wave, I to must play my Part
when it is over, all my soldiers retired
I stand there saluting
empty and scared