bought all our entertainment at a bargain and think it gives us something to do, but it just gives us reasons to avoid the light, avoid ourselves, avoid our life, this life we’ve built on a concrete slab with broken windows and water-stained ceilings, hoping it’d grow with time or we’d grow into it, but instead we find our hands hitting walls and sacrificing expletives for laughter and the clutter of a toddler destined to need space.
Posts published in “Incomplete”
History is what makes us
Who we are, allows us
To be who we want to be by
Giving breadcrumbs, giving something
To search for ourselves by;
With reluctance, cold & slender, to others’ abodes did I surrender, stricken, feasting on the gourd’s sweet’ innards,
“We,” when one.
We held hands outside my parent’s house,
Hoping the night would keep us from the world
And we could chase the sun’s shadow together.
We saw the falling of the queen’s star,
Giving us the unique which can be common
As my body’s blocks fell,
you effortlessly pulled
Them out of air,
Blocks but rounded,
Tumbles from itself.
Softest hands & eye,
Sweep me up by palm,
Placing head ‘low heels.
He loved the establishment,
Though only enough to enter
Through a faded wooden door
Along the side of the bulding,
Between the corner and a
Neon sign lit, “FOOD,” where
The word, “Fine,” had been
brought a brick back from the alley we lived in,
tried to see the fireplace as something
other than a mantle/we couldn’t afford
the gas? you sure?, we’re drinking soda
24/7, no, seriously, waking up at
1am for a coke/not the white stuff,
nothin’ hard, just a little pick-me-up,
high fructose adrenaline pumpin’ in
me while i tried to be a better son;
not going to fight anymore, nah,
not worth the agony my mother had
because of me, but… i’m not a punk,
not a chump, i just won’t fight back,
but i’ll outlast you because you’re
both of those; don’t see reluctance
of another as an advantage over
who you just can’t control,
even though you tried and i refused
to supply that vestigial need to be
dominant or dominated.
Enter the Maid, a traveler from another side of the city.
Across from the Maid enters Adani, a lover of modern necessities, but classic styles.
Maid (whispering): The carn’val barker knows t’ whispa,
so be c’r’ful of a soft breeze ‘t’s-not
movin’ thr’u’ th’ trees– it’s-a ploy, a plot
to hide y’r drown-in’ in anoth’r’s chatt’r.
Andi: What? I’ve heard that before. Do you know where that’s from?
Maid: Oh, it’s always bein’ said here. s’plains a lot. Can’t always trust a soft speaker!
provide me a simple beat,
i’ll try to come up with a clever way to show you how sophisticated the mundane can be.
if you missed my jabs, it’s alright, i’ll let you catch up with the hooks.
I do not want to forget you
All your smiled faces pacing
Memories in faded slide shows
Those days, the nights, our
Along reality, mind’s delightful sugar.