originally from june 16

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it starts out with a promise made of smoke and all this frustratingly frantic anxiety spills over up and out to rid myself of the punctuation that holds me back daily so put it to task and lay it on the line for the world lives on a wire and change crumbles all the beautiful buildings you dreamt of from your youth like when you saved your broken tooth in a tissue in the hopes that someone would understand and put it all back in place, back how it was, how you thought it should be but now you can’t deny that you’re going to lose control so put the pedal down, press it to the ground and let everyone stare at you while you race on by reckless as a red rat on a hat and believe me i’m not here when you’re not there and i moved on long before you thought so when you held out i held on but now that you push off seems sad and bad and like an honest mistake that will take your head underground with a weight you can’t shoulder don’t think i’m talking about you because i’m talking about everyone i’m address if you feel it’s your fault that’s your fault.

the run-on is my runway because i can’t find the time to write my mind the way i want to it to say, the way i want it to stay on the point of becoming the savior i’ll never be and though i might be in one piece doesn’t mean you should find peace apart from that because i’ve been running on headlong into a future around a bend in a grey road that’s in a town unknown and i can’t keep this up forever since i have the red blood of the blind souls that can’t see because their eyes are wide shut as the wind whips around their cheeks with windows down and music loud enough to loose control over the parts of itself that define it’s heart so the violin and the voice become the quiet question that haunts you silently raging its raspy riddle over your sleepless heart and you lose gravity for moment and think you might set off for the stars as you start over the hills and through the hollars that no one knows about but you and the red fox by the stream that can’t see its fate in the headlines of the father so i’ll fall to the ground like the fledging bird after the storm that no one saw on the horizon but everyone knew was right above them.

i wasn’t there when you weren’t here so don’t look at me that way when i tell you to go because i followed all the rules and traced all the lines only to find you were biding your time and now the change leaves me feeling strange like i should have a word that glues this broken pictures back to the bleeding heart but there are a million words in every eye and i can’t read them all for you to tell you what the meaning is to each.

christ came back to take it all away since we were knocking on the door again asking for instructions on how to live like the flowers by the lake where a boy with a coin stands on the forgotten corner of the dusty dirt road where our ghosts will live one day soon next to the resurrection fern that browned and burned and fell into the ashes of lost hope.

i can’t step back and can’t slow down and can’t get my feet off the ground when i reach for what i once thought was vital and important and i held it once to my face like the hair of a lover long asleep but should you circle the ground where i’m not around, you won’t find me there waiting for the next big thing because i’m casting these mooring lines that i’ve tied so tightly around my neck that i can’t move forward without stepping back to catch my breath and scare the life out of myself because i’m living and planning for the death and not the life i live today, not after i sold it all to the lonely old man in the carriage home on the backstreets of a distant dream.

dance in my blood because this cut is deep and the wine is red with blood as i drink it down and live because tomorrow we’ll all die and you’ll see that i’m not the lies i wear on my face and i’m not the boy you thought you knew when we slid through the snow and sang to ourselves in white wonder of each other and you touched my cheek and i spoke your thoughts but you couldn’t take back your awkward admittion and i couldn’t take my acceptance and make them a prayer for you.

you won’t do this to me again because you’ve all done it to me before and you couldn’t hold to your philosophy only a loose hypocrisy because it’s all too easy to sell yourself out to the open door so you’ll never give yourself justice and you’ll never feel the power of forgiveness because we’re all as guilty as sin and i won’t let you off, not in front of me, because even the rainbow crow sings for joy after burning for the warmth of all and i, too, will know what it means to be free of you and this weight and pain because i’ve dried the rain and seen the house on the coast where there is nothing in front of me and only a cool chill behind and i can be where my heart is so don’t think that my roof means it’s my home, that this door opens to my thoughts, that where i live is where i want to be because i still don’t know where that is except for a vague, passing feeling that happens when i’m loud with and the music blends into the horizon of burning suns and clouds that sleep silently above the tree tops that are higher than you’ll ever be and the rainbow crow whose colors burn brighter for the sacrifice it made.