by Jon Coe

Created on: March 26, 2009

Less than two feet, from my head
another foot, or so, to my bed
Lying down, I begin, to wonder
lots of feelings, left, to ponder

As the blood pumps, to my brain
there's only one thought, that ingrain
I think of things, in a different way
words in my head, let go, and play

Dancing around, inside, I hear my gut
hypothetical scissors, begin, to cut
Less than two feet, from my heart
a mish-mash of trouble, from the start

To see and to be blind, at the same time
misinformation, internally, in my prime
Perception, redemption, the human path
another day older and I'm doing the math

Hearts of stone, and heads of clay
turn them around, reverse the pay
Heart is open, eyes are on my chest
in my heart, god, knows best

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