Not One Listener

I have no interest in time

I have no interest in the lines 

on my face, I’ll end up 

god knows where, I don’t care

grey hair ain’t no big deal, get real 

we all deteriorate and decay

who wants to live forever anyway?

I remember endless highways

tires beating the bedrock

a low sun shimmering

as we searched for meaning 

for something far bigger than us, 

temporary lives merged 

with conversations 

most can’t recall

but I remember them all,

sleeps for the weak

I could sleep for a week,

I once talked all night at a coffee house

in Buffalo after swallowing beautiful poison

at the Pink Flamingo 

in anticipation that the radioman 

might want to indulge 

in musical conversation,

one million songs were 

crafted out of vocation

to end up nowhere because 

no one cared to listen

no one shared my vision,

now I find myself stranded in a life 

I can’t consummate 

I just can’t relate

I don’t want to participate

within other people’s perception landscapes, 

I don’t have the time to waste

let me write with haste,

let me strum this fucking guitar

until my fingers bleed, 

why do I have this incessant need 

to put myself through the ringer

I have one thousand voices 

and not one listener