track two (colors_collapse - "have you seen...")

the future has become some joke,
some little giggle for someone-
who is not me-
to have.
the knuckles in my back,
the healthy young man
that i somehow lost...
how did this young man
come to be so goddamned old?
how did this young man
come to be so goddamned old?
ask how.

i'm hardly a man
or what one's supposed to be.
all you'll gets
what's left of me.
the jargon-filled soliloquy.
a hermit full of infamy.
inward notoriety.

his fingers only slightly stained
from tar and wondering
and rubbing his eyes clean
of all hope and sodomy
and wishing you well.
wishing you well.

it's not that i can't stand-
but god has played a trick on me.
broken my back beautifully.
but some day soon,
i promise you.
wake up.
(i'll wake up)