breaking grammar rules, playing with repetition.

it's probably better to get it all out now,

before it ferments inside me; anyways.


Visits Again

November 4, 2011

.

Stood there, pinpointing a point

on the hapless horizon, where the sun kisses

the land.

You wanna be perfect,

let the sun caress you until it burns.

.

T-t-tap. Tap out.

.

Stood there lookin' forward,

as the sun came down and the sounds

shrunk out.

.

And I stood there,

eyes faced forward like a glass-eyed fish.

.

Stood with glued eyes,

completely un-awake,

as the waves ran towards me,

surging the contents of a rectified mind.

Squabbling against haphazard signs and muscles.

Bending against glass walls,

like I'd never been strong before.

.

Before today.

.

Knew it was coming,

but couldn't stop myself,

from hitting 'eject'

and letting the needles bury into me.

Because I liked it the first time,

why would I stop now?

.

If it had an image,

I'd imagine it a shadowy sprinter,

perched on the doorway of heaven,

ready to burn like hell

a pathway through my myelinated neurons.

(who needs white matter, anyways?)

.

But he ran with intuition

before the moment I'd been aware

of that prickly, oncoming,

dodging, running wave,

and he was out like the sun.

Only just aware,

before the bullets took you down.

.

And so, you have a lot of time to pensively ponder,

lying on the ground in the headquarters

of your once in-control head,

as that bespectacled man

manipulates the sky and mind,

you used to know.

.

You have a lot of time,

but you're too busy

being broken down.

.

(I confess, I'm not the eloquent I once was)