Rosy Blues

There are times where I am so overwhelmed with dirty water feelings, that its sometimes psychotic. Nothing is purified and I think I'm okay with that. I want to cross the country with a goodlookin friend and some whiskey by my side. I come alive and I get punished for the howling. Getting lost in a mans guitar as he strums his troubles is a blue that soundly becomes rosy. I twist my hair and drop the moon in my lap. I don't have a true identity but several that spread out perfectly on my fingers, just like valuable rings should. Meeting a man who fits his gun in his vocabulary is a man for me. Down to earth and subtly weary, is a cost  that can be bought. A random thought: I want to travel down to New Orleans and chow down on some of that bittersweet cake and the flavors of the musty air. God damn do I feel a sweet peace tonight. A little room on my pillow and some sweet talk from the ones before me and I'm drowning in the atmosphere...