*shrug*

So as I was laying in my old and almost empty room last Saturday waiting for J and his brother Phill to arrive with the moving truck I was crisscrossing my presence between a nap and the waking world. Things would pop into my head as soon as I would plunge into a semi-slumber and I would wake up and write those things on a small notepad we had been using for lists regarding our move. This is what came out. It's in order and I just have no clue (especially the last one):

Maybe you can sing your tune in a barren room
and truly hear the echo's soul.

I need an angel's call
to the knotted ball
of tight muscle in my neck.

Hey chowder head,
Your skin is red.
Leave your scabs alone.