The East

It's the taste of honey and oats

wrapped in cinnamon smoke

the censor gives off byzantine heat 

frankincense from the east

my head is filled with whiskey dreams

inspiration a dance with time

I have no idea what fills what needs to mend, what needs to begin and what needs to end, just the swirling thoughts in my head and my heart repulsed by them

did you know the heart can betray other organs and that the others can fight the boss?  A real rebellion inside and I can't save you and I don't want to try, I can't save myself and I don't want to try, 

I'm good 

I mean it

these waves and 

darkness from a pier are

my own

doubts crashing on my stone soul

right up against this mountain inside

it's the taste of honey and oats

tomorrow morning and liberation 

cinnamon, smoke and that which rises

in the east