may april march

i like to imagine that there is more, away from life and everything, it’s so dull when something shines without passion, and the way there, well, who knows? i love silence, and stupid talk, where are these people going? Im so sick of everyone’s laughter, and i don’t mean to be antisocial but could you all just go away, wash  away, today, i imagine that someone’s always listening, that someone is always watching, and in turn we will listen and we will watch also, i miss sunshine and slow vision, i never want to be happy again, i never want to pretend, there’s so much sometimes there’s not enough, he believes in the individual, he believes in the soul, he believes in god, and he believes in eternity, forever just sort of melds and regrets and rusts and just corrodes, i swear it is the most beautiful thing, i love it when it just rains and pours, why cant anyone else hear it? into leaves, into me, over and over again, away from love and hate and smiles, just away, when six is too early to dream and seven is too late to start, oh well, as long as the milk is still good it doesnt matter to me, my eyes, my fuckin eyes, they hurt, why is everyone dancing? and playing? and breathing? molding for some insulated purpose felt through billions of tragic questions, why? when summer never ends and everything sort of bends in the wrong direction, quiet, for he takes over the world and he will surely die if he is awakened, and simplified without justice, being dull and ashamed and not interesting and no fun, in a perfect world we are all dogs or poems or a shade of gray, maybe just to calm or shave away the discomfort of cuts and bruises that will never heal, on blades of grass and earth with dirt, my eyes burn and break, and everything is a shape or a number or a color or good or evil or quiet or loud or shy or outgoing or cute or ugly or nice or mean or ketchup or mustard, with fingers, dying to be something beautiful, i love the way it hates us, but he says the things we will not say or at least the things we are hoping someone says, its boring and stale sometimes, but i imagine that it is not, that we are boring and that we are stale and everything is just perfect without us, and with us, memorizing and endless tale of knowledge that reinvents itself as we pursue some false premise, holding on to everything we can claw onto on our way into oblivion, hoping we do not hurt enough, i only want to feel, and be distant on some shore where waves violently send me to my sleep, my peace, my rest, far from traffic and speedbumps, mellowing, blinking, noticing, piercing, becoming, annoyance, rage and blasphemy holding hands as they breed and melt and play on swings and die not even trying to discover the purpose of chains that so well hide and imbalance all the sand you can hold in one hand becoming forever as it sits and you don’t even notice how fast you have become nothing while planets and suns and atoms colliding and entering chaos with some disorder that is incomprehensible and infinite like stupidity and blue jeans frosting to a nice spectacle for the eyes of some fanatical misanthrope disguising himself to be god, pray people that you have not sinned enough and forget everything youve ever tried to remember because theres too much to come, but i could not tell you that enough, for strawberries and ice cream melts and bloody noses and chess games and good music and dr pepper and deoderant and flat tires and broken hearts and losses and rotten teeth and making sense of everything that makes no sense and broken bones and homes and tragedies and comedies and liquor and drugs and sex and crushes and jobs and failures and surprises and popcorn with movies and nothing you ever wanted, before light and after hours through some labyrinth of fear, we are almost there now, and when it falls the reign of sun, goodnight goodbyes when friendships have molded beyond recognition, sacrificing red meat for the sake of our own souls, i burn and hallucinate til hours don’t end in my endless dance through non-existent time, we buy watches because we are afraid of not knowing and lights because we are afraid of being in the dark when the universe is the most darkest thing i know of and we can never know, ancient evolution, and the art of walking away from everything you thought you would never walk away from, as soothing as neosporin or maybe a nice warm shower and some chili fries because it doesnt hurt at all, and rainbows and leprechauns, its all true i tell you, because they closed their eyes and believed it, smiling all the way home, melt me, burn me, bury me, because words make no sense anymore than you or i do, it settles now to a quiver, to life and death and eternity, pray now for to sleep and be calm at last, like flies on shit it makes no difference, heavenly, openly, silently, and so they all came to a four way stop and waited for days for someone to go and then finally decided to all go at the same time and ended the disorder of order, waiting i guess, for someone to undress because they could not do it before and be done, not wanting, not needing, not breeding, over exaggerated and mutilated democracy delivered in shiny packages you will never open, for some reason there is no reason, and everything i touch withers and dies, because if its cheap enough and nice enough and big enough then it must be good, oh well, i guess, walking forever because he just needs too, forgetting words because he will never speak again, they still laugh and play and it is still too early to tell whether yesterday was a complete waste of time. 5-18-01 Written December 28th, 2001 © on Dec 28 2001 06:19 AM PST, midnite_raver   0 • 10