He swore everything was leaving.
He was crawling in a shell on the beach
with everything still within reach.
He wrote ‘float the day’.
Sat on his hands so he wouldn’t say
he still had only love.
He said he should go away.
Paced in his shell so he wouldn’t say
how much he really missed it.
People said, ‘he’s fine.’
like they could read his mind.
He couldn’t write out his mind.
Nobody could right his mind.
He was tired and he tried not to hide,
but he wandered within him, lost somewhere.
Dying to be outside.
He spoke crazy truth.
Sang don’t let silence get the best of you.
Gotta speak from your heart.
Those things aren’t the rest of you.
The way you dance through life is art.
He prays for a day when this can really start.
You’ve got the biggest palette.
He recalls backyards, best friends.
A friends friend, his friend, talking
about zombies on Klonopin. She said
they crawled hidden inside shells of themselves.
Those words, like a mirror for him.
Shook, fell and cracked.
Those words walked into a mirror.
Like it never happened, but everything was gone.
Didn’t know how it all happened,
only knew why it went wrong.
Piece of reflection, scattered in sand.
He felt calm tonight.
Sat on his hands so he would speak and
never have to write it out.
Quiet time tonight.
Sat on his hands with too much to say, but
he got himself all figured out.
Wrote ‘light’s back on, mind is fine.
When I get my legs, I’ll outrun time.’
this is your life chuck johnson 