Did a little doodle,
drew a purple you.
Didn’t stop to fill me in,
before I was pulled through.
Scratched a tiny scribble,
wrote an aqua me.
Scratching left a heartfelt word
that they will never read.
Now I’m up on a mountain.
I can’t see a thing.
Glass mind with a longing heart
and that look in my eye,
like the lights back came on.
What can you do but live?
Tipped over a table
looked for the last piece,
tipping everything in sight
to find that sweet release.
Slugged some mugs of diesel,
stayed up all year long.
Slugs said, ‘when you live too fast
things are bound to go wrong.’
So I went out walking, taking time.
Ignored all the talking, taking time.
So I slimed around for a while.
Walked for years before the lights came on.
What can you do but live?
this is your life chuck johnson 