miniature tigers dancing like wraiths between fingertips

i've stepped out into the street now;
ive seen god in two headlights, and i stayed, and i left.
it tastes like linoleum floors and white-washed windows and doors,
between and around and over and under and inside and out and left and right
but mostly between.

i think the same things over and over and say them with different syllables,
only who's to say whats right or not?
i think its an approaching car with 60 miles per hour on me,
because nobody, not even the rain, can make it stop.

there's a god in car-crashes, i think.
that sort of "lack" of control
that comes from being in control.

some nights i stay up on purpose until i cant sleep anymore,
just wondering why or why not;
does it really matter, in the long run?
it does. the long run, on the other hand, doesn't matter at all.

the long run doesn't matter at all,
and ive spent my money and my time and my energy trying
with outstreched hands, i promise,
trying and trying and trying to reach the sun,
but i cant. and now im cool with that.
i can dig it.

its like not knowing what a heart is.
maybe i've just forgotten, but i dont think ive ever really known.
have i?

theres a god in car-crashes, i think.