Stolen Poems

Stolen Poems

Now that the evening has been littered with deception

And you've stolen all the poetry from my mind

Now that the tourist has no sense of his direction

And the clocks inside his heart no longer wind

Is there anything else that sends a knife into my being

Like the way you touch the wrong sides of my soul?

Well, it's looking to me like looking at the sights that I've been seeing

Has made me half the man I was when I was whole.

The morning burns the fog off of my brain, diseased and swollen

I find that the stories aren't worth telling and the poetry's been stolen.