Wednesday, July 31, 2013

It's Just That It's Just That.

I wish there was a harbinger of truth
above the maudeline clouds
to lend acid laser precision to the dim.
Shine a neon light on the drab interior of my present mind.
I see a hollow cheeked man stoop to pick up a bottle cap.
I wander intangibly through my hopes
of one day feeling content with everything I've been through.
The finality of things must have eluded this man.
The hollow eyes.  The marble.
I'm too young to keep my panic at bay.
It'd be ridiculous to let these conspiracies
echoing through my organs
take me down so soon.
Drastic plans of a tragedy unfold in the movie theater across town.
Everything writ with colors that weren't invented
until we could see at every hour.
Until we could see at every hour.
Until we can see at every hour.
I am here and I fan the fire. 
The scent of slow dreams.
The scent of a pulse running.
Spit and wheel spinning no where.
My face gathering it's flesh together while my eyes watch in terror.
I can't come to terms with what my body wants.
It aches and leans over dumb.
I suppose I'll see something before I go.
I suppose the memory left behind catches on the hook.
I saw you out there in the midnight waving a flare.
I saw you but I didn't stop.
Which is not to say I was not there.
Just let me get far enough to die without qualm.
It's just that the request is just too much to ask.
There are bombs exploding everywhere
and no one will ever see them.