Earth is a simple place. This world is not.
12 April 2011 § Leave a comment
with a bottle of whiskey and some candlelight, i’m wondering how to attract more dust and burnt rubber into my lungs. change is off chasing the sun somewhere – we parted ways a while back, when i walked into a bank to ask for credit on my word. i said i’d be back in just a minute, but they looked at me inside and said they’d be back in just a minute.
the scratches lacked the nerve to follow me to the surface, and i was sitting there with a brochure that tried to sell me something to believe in. i wasn’t buying, and neither was the bank. they rejected all my promises, told me to hit the road. i walked back to the alleyway to find my old friend making trouble with his former life. in a second, it was over. no endearing bro-fight, no punches traded. i’m pretty sure that dilapidated girl looked at me right before i jumped the fence, and she knew something more than me, like ‘this is why you keep it close.’
of course, i ignored her gaze because i knew already. i know everything there is to know, except for why you’re still reading this. so keep it up, you might as well, but invite yourself, and cordially, to ask yourself why you’re staring at the screen and why you feel the need to speed underneath the bridge where sits the cowardly man with the big expensive laser gun pointed at your head. no one is going to ask you why, but it’s good to know these things just in case you’re caught off guard. you might need to justify to yourself why you’re walking down the highway at three in the morning, not quite as high as a kite, but getting there with another set of headlights and two exhausted sighs.
don’t make it so obvious when you’re rehearsing, lest the innocent call you out. but when it’s real, watch out for the 88 percenters – they’ll tattletale and break even with the morning tide, in hopes of getting paid another month of rent. keep ’em tied, the shoelaces and the practice pressing buttons. divide your attention span into plates of apple pie and ice cream. free the fireweed and honey, and i wondered, why today?
face it, there’s no more sense here, and even less for you to hold – so please make your way to the exit doors. they’re just below the green lights that read EXIT PLEASE, for your life, but please preserve your memory.
with what else could we create this consciousness, this lack of faith in the remainder of humanity? i’m done with it, we’re through. trade in a new name for all your change and take a fabulous breath as you step out into the rain. the green will be here soon, and i won’t until it fades again, that evening sunlight through the trees. on any other day it might have been beautiful and lovely and full of summer, but i’m pretty sure everything that day was full of hate.
i know a little bit of everything, and it burns my tongue and insecurity: batteries never die, they just give up all they have, and they’re afterwards disposed of. i can’t be that. i can’t be the user, and i cannot be the dead.
a bed of quarters clinking poetry and love.
her quarrel is with me, my dear,
so walk with me, we’ll talk.