Making car bombs with balls of foil and bottles of gasoline;
sometimes it's not enough to be polite,
and you just have to find your own way.
Broken lighters and an empty pack of 100's;
sometimes flies are attracted to the less putrid smells,
like the back of my arm
or the cramp in my side.
Walking seems to get you somewhere slow,
but enough of it puts you back into the true perspective of life;
sometimes the grass is greener on the other side,
but usually, when you check, you find out it was all just weeds and clovers.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Autumn's Heavy Winds
Listening to the echo of my father chopping fire wood;
and autumn runs its fingers across my neck, and down my back
my hairs raise up with the winds and leaves
i remember when i visited my great-aunts, and my second-cousin stood by the car, and the green grass, and the damp concrete, and the fall sky, and the dream of it all wraps around me
like warm blankets or sleeping in real plies.
and the feeling of not knowing, but imagining and wondering, and standing on a bed in socks with the sheets ruffled and the sun slightly making it through the gray clouds on down through the window into the room, warm and dusty from the heater as joints loosen up from being in the cold.
and the trees with their colors and the grass with its dew and the street with its glimmer.
at night i want someone to be cute with, and i want to make beautiful things and i want to takes pictures that make people feel emotions that are less fleeting than laughing at a joke or smiling at a remark.
during the day the lights suffocate me, and my nose clogs up, and the people complicate the smallest actions and make up wild things in their minds that aren't true and don't happen, and the heat kicks in and the sun blares down, and become burned through my thick cotton skin
at night i want to be awake and active and at night i can breathe.
at night i am home, i am free, i am calm and want to cut pumpkins out of construction paper.
at night i want to lie on a cold hard rock of a thing as the meteors swing around the stars and the planes waltz through the sky, and i cast wishes beneath me like shadows.
and autumn runs its fingers across my neck, and down my back
my hairs raise up with the winds and leaves
i remember when i visited my great-aunts, and my second-cousin stood by the car, and the green grass, and the damp concrete, and the fall sky, and the dream of it all wraps around me
like warm blankets or sleeping in real plies.
and the feeling of not knowing, but imagining and wondering, and standing on a bed in socks with the sheets ruffled and the sun slightly making it through the gray clouds on down through the window into the room, warm and dusty from the heater as joints loosen up from being in the cold.
and the trees with their colors and the grass with its dew and the street with its glimmer.
at night i want someone to be cute with, and i want to make beautiful things and i want to takes pictures that make people feel emotions that are less fleeting than laughing at a joke or smiling at a remark.
during the day the lights suffocate me, and my nose clogs up, and the people complicate the smallest actions and make up wild things in their minds that aren't true and don't happen, and the heat kicks in and the sun blares down, and become burned through my thick cotton skin
at night i want to be awake and active and at night i can breathe.
at night i am home, i am free, i am calm and want to cut pumpkins out of construction paper.
at night i want to lie on a cold hard rock of a thing as the meteors swing around the stars and the planes waltz through the sky, and i cast wishes beneath me like shadows.
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