Purple Haze

the meat in my head is purple

where once it was orange 

as a kid riding my bike through the city

i don’t see things the way i did back then

when i worked at the spaghetti warehouse

before afghanistan and the world trade center

i’m not sure what my emotional state is

most of the time. if i’m getting better or worse

there is a name for my condition but that doesn’t help much

i bought a gun a few weeks ago and take it out

and look at it sometimes when you’re sleeping

the horses standing just outside the window

the wind blowing the rain across the road

a long slow train leaving the station

tomorrow or just the end of time