For The People Up High

yesterday it felt like i was thrown into reality without the bumpers and safety net.  no sound checks or dress rehearsals.  no mentor, no Virgil.  i look straight up and i see the scars in the sky.  from all the jumbo jets and the people up high.  and a kid like me is so far away we can't even be seen.  and yet i strangely have rescue on the forefront of my mind. it's better than the muscle and everyday grind.

and i see everyone else going so fast, gliding right over those short, deep gaps in the plan.  but i'm moving so slowly, i'm an easy victim, i fall right in them.  on the way down it's not my life that flashes before me, it's yours.  and you're screaming at me to just land, to hit the bottom like man.  and the bottom is something that can't be seen from the surface.  it's cavernous and chilly, and i walk around like i may find my way out.  dig in, and climb the walls - at any angle, with no security.

instead i carve out the side, crawl in a ball, and plant myself inside.
the rain can't flood me out, the faces can't call my name.
and it's all the same as it had been before,
and i'll come out when i'm good and ready.

once my wounds heal up and i can comfortably stand on two feet.  i had gotten so accustomed to giving in and taking it all. so for now i'll just sit here while i work myself out, and hopefully not into deeper trouble where i won't get myself out before summer.  i'll shed the layer of plaster and grit, and watch i'll wind up jumping out of this pit.

I'm Not Sure Where I Went, But I Know Where I'll Be

i never once was hurt by you. i never receded, or retreated. i thought i did well in such a backwards position. you said more than i ever could, but still i'm the one credited with the spectacle. now i'm unsure of what direction to take, if any. i was once solid, god it seems like it's been forever, an old memory on the back burner, barely mentionable. and stability is so much more when you're avoiding life daily. sometimes when i close my eyes i see your face, and we go to the marsh with the cloudy rebellious water, where we could never be seen. i contemplate how past too far i let all the feelings linger, and dissolve my chance at any normal days. i continue, would it have been the same had i acted differently? i fell into plans that never panned out, i was naive, and i followed the bait you ambitiously spoke about. but why? you let me in on your little secret several times, but i still couldn't step away from the impending rush of hostile emotion i knew i'd get from you. i took a deep breath, and let it pass. and does anyone else know how fake your friendliness is? i fell for it. i did for everything though. once i thought about getting a sponsor. to call, when you know, i wanted to call you. and i once met a man on the street, was gonna ask him. he noticed i was wandering not being pulled in any direction and he told me "there's no bad influences, just you". and my god i never turned so fast around, i thought you were tapping me on the shoulder. had to have been a sensual hallucination. it then dawned on me that's all you ever were. i was just the fool who took the drug.

I Am The End

all i can see is the end of summer. all i can feel is the end of me. with nobody. maybe it's a stretch, or maybe its condensed. i'm not quite sure, but suddenly everything is even more meaningless to me. things i thought i had are frequently gone, and ways i thought i knew are redirected from you. how impossible is nothing, and how possible is everything.

there is nothing to brag about, and even less to mention. days they pass with no intention. i want to get out, i want to break free, how badly i'd like to be nothing but me. i know i'm away and no one can see the things i've done to end up without grace, to end up face to face, with the person i thought could be a change - they were the worst, and i hate to place blame.

i'm off. i'm done. i'm like you on a day after work where you realized this isn't what you want. i'm sorry and sad, but i bust through the day - i want to end up free from the shame.

i can't run fast enough. i can't wiggle through the net that's you.
and when i see all the old men who frequent the dust, i collect what is mine and i'm off with it all. i'm at the office where you should be. i'm out in the street running wild with glee. i'm punished with you, you track my every thought. but unlike you i have my own.

i'm honest but troubled and i can't even lie. i'm rubble beneath the river you cry. wish me luck i'll be gone in time, it goes fast. if you ever wanna talk again i suggest you change and discard all of the shit that made you happily with me.

A Dog Off His Leash

i love the sweatshirts and shorts thing, because it means summer nights, borrowed cigarettes, binge drinking, grilled peppers, humid warmth, silent streets, slow mornings, tired eyes, and it defines me in an outfit. it's like a dog off it's leash. a rabbit in the garden. a civilian at the bus stop. an ornament on the tree. it's warmth amongst cold. it's beyond me and i'm beyond it. it's patient and scared, and i'm right there. i wear it proudly and sleep soundly. i ache and it torments. i don't push any further. i look deep in it's eyes and swear that i'll come back, i wont embarrass my soul when its pitchforked on a street i used to walk and sweat as i walked the beat. i'm looking for you to tell me the answer regardless of how many days i spent pushing and avoiding, on top of that i took something sacred and lit it on fire to see though the street.

i was a dump and everyone saw it. i made new friends, they couldn't be bothered. everyone has their answer, and their excuse. mine are the same. one of kind. the abuse.

if i had stronger arms i'd lift you and take you through the river with me. cooled but hot i'd move relentlessly.

bygones are bygones maybe yet again.

Birth Of Wrath

i just recalled what broke the final straw, and started the free fall. it was you talking nonsense to the sky, about how better things were gonna come your way. ramblings that got me thinking now might be the time so i abruptly interrupted and told you that was me. but you weren't convinced so i was unsuccessful. and deep down i knew you'd deny it, and deeper down i knew i wasn't prepared to hear it.

i left that conversation with the weight of the world lifted off my shoulders. but it was replaced with the weight of a heavy heart. one that recovered surface but not internal. one that threw the towel in, and tried to walk away without any hurt feelings left, or swept under the rug. one that told itself everything would be okay on an hourly basis, one that retired to the bathroom to weep and bellow. and it worked overtime to mask the plague it caught from you.

couple of days later i read the heart it's last rights.
things were touch and go, but it made it through.
and the religious people close to me considered it a miracle.
and to their faces i laughed and told them they had to be kidding me, but behind their backs i agreed and cried from relief.