communication breakdown

god damnit, you always were unconventional. you hated using rubber bands & erasers & you'd never call me lady cause it'd feel wrong & you'd deny your insatiable sexual appetite but only because you were not so very good, & i always wondered where you grew up. when provoked or asked anything of the sort you'd never tell the truth, instead just state: i never grew up anywhere but on mars . . .

something always got yr attention steered clear of me. yet you'd turn over and mutter in a sleepy kiss wake up & i'd reply with a snap - wide awake its morning ! & oh and tell me a story of the buffalos. or can i tell you a story never learned of arizona? just one more tall tale of the suns setting on the horizons. oh ! & do you think those rusted rocks drip with paint when it's too hot? can one chip the rock bits off and create aztec designs swirled into clothing & minds? please tell me just one more bedtime story? it's so lonely over here, i am begging you.
well, here it goes lady: you are nothing but something cool when you are young one forgot to grow out of.
the end.

a mash^

chills hit the back of the throat no sooner or later than the hairs on a back. a shake to the leg & a twitch to the lips & you land just to take-off. yes at it again captain - off to the horizons, beyond the sea. arriving here & leaving there while thoughts bounce off yr binaural brain-waves, which we mistaken for another game of pac-man. here is a boundary so many have crossed yet so few have succeeded to bend the elasticity of their minds to reach new thresholds. what did you say captain? aim for the apologizes?

perhaps you are correct. perhaps i owe you all an apology. you see, this was never of my intent. the games were not meant for dismissal, meant to be traded for a journey into the end of time. but alas, i was pushed back to the beginning & now terms must be dealt with. you always said, you must know the rules before you begin to play. lose & you will be sent back to start. simple as that. fall down the chute while you reach for the ladders & nothing good will ever come. I never did excel in comprehensive listening classes.

& i never meant to get entangled and trapped, either. nevertheless, hide & seek at recess is over. everyone's invited to show & tell now. here there is a strange rebirth occuring in my mind. look into these grey faded eyes, slowing finding colour again. please justlook watch these eyes as i begin the story & understand why this journey has to ocur. but we cannot go back. no going back, there is new. we will find the mystery.
and remember, there are no shortcuts. you will not awake a heaven scented angel. you will never become a sunflower .ginsberg was wrong.

(because i need you)

i'm fearing my small heart again. it's true, i wanted to find a saint. i wanted miracles to blind my tired eyes. perhaps they have. but what you wish never equates to the small facing truth of what you get. yes, miracles of others shine through. but does the shine needs to come from within? what can i say? what can i do? i wanted my xray vision to blind the inner cores of others. i wanted inspiration of mine to leak into heavy hearts of street passers. i wanted to play savior. i'm not used to needing saving. (this is all just a lie now) i wanted my body to dangle like sunflowers perched on a windowsill pocket hidden apartment on the lower east side. i wanted a brainy mind with cracked parts for the bad parts to be hidden in & leak into. i wanted to conduct experiments on boys who forgot to shape their minds. i wanted to show them electrical waves to find their way home. i wanted to follow yellow lines on the road & find MY way home. i wanted faded pictures of brautigan to give shape to me. i wanted to experience the visions only mystics dreamt of. elevate from the chaos, giving myself away to chance. & you, wearing only a beard as a saint would, you, having heavy blue eyes, seeing past the chaos. you, you came for me. & yet, i still find myself speaking through parenthesis.

(because i need you)

i'm fearing my small heart again. it's true, i wanted to find a saint. i wanted miracles to blind my tired eyes. perhaps they have. but what you wish never equates to the small facing truth of what you get. yes, miracles of others shine through. but does the shine needs to come from within? what can i say? what can i do? i wanted my xray vision to blind the inner cores of others. i wanted inspiration of mine to leak into heavy hearts of street passers. i wanted to play savior. i'm not used to needing saving. (this is all just a lie now) i wanted my body to dangle like sunflowers perched on a windowsill pocket hidden apartment on the lower east side. i wanted a brainy mind with cracked parts for the bad parts to be hidden in & leak into. i wanted to conduct experiments on boys who forgot to shape their minds. i wanted to show them electrical waves to find their way home. i wanted to follow yellow lines on the road & find MY way home. i wanted faded pictures of brautigan to give shape to me. i wanted to experience the visions only mystics dreamt of. elevate from the chaos, giving myself away to chance. & you, wearing only a beard as a saint would, you, having heavy blue eyes, seeing past the chaos. you, you came for me. & yet, i still find myself speaking through parenthesis.

no more is nice

will i ever want to write again?
the words are so thick and muddy and rotted inside my brain.
perhaps one day.