I want to break this guitar and smash this horn.  I want to burn all the books and cut myself again.  I want to destroy something meaningful so you see how I hurt.  But I don't know if that has any meaning because I don't know if I have any meaning to you. 

So I think i should drive these things to friends who could use them and maybe my actions could have some worth.  Then I could throw everything in the car and drive to locations I don't know, because this is everything that has meaning to me.  But I'm not sure how that is reflected!  I think its sunk down to the less and less and sit somewhere under the stains of the dogs spot on the wall.  Scrubbed too long and its just a place not a home.

What where are the cherry trees and the forgotten bones.  The well worked stones of our memory, the shared distant reverie.  Locked up with clasps and bows tied so long they aren't touched for fear they won't hold.  There murky water rise up your Jerusalem with golden bow, sharp the arrows!