Warm Soil

the option[s] stretch out before me, I shuffle into the huddle - well, the back of the huddle, and I think, I'm not really part of this team. i'm into such a position, seriously. I wanted time to myself in the sense that if I have time for myself I can spend it however I like. That kind of thing is liberating, thinking, "this could be the peak of my life." realizing, "this is it, this is why I'm alive." thinking, "there's no doubt..."

and then I snap out (in?). I think, it's good to see you back again. it's been such a long long time. we were walking in the city streets, haha, no we weren't we never did that that much at all. seen you cry. actually i missed alot of it. I missed too much of it to justify a comeback. that's conservative. Hehe, I saw the little sea change, haha, you know what? let's compare how contaminated we've become: I go to the brick walled, I have to ask you? where did you stay exactly? When I listened to the national anthem in my ears off the subway, why do I think of you whenever I think of how much I love cities? why do I think of you whenever my subconscious is in a remotely unhysterical state? That's when you dream, I'm instructed.

talk about fresh starts. I wish I could script this a little: that's what it would take at this point, some hollywood theatrics, girl. Laughter fills the air. I'm dreaming all I can right now. I know it's silly, I know it's pointless. It's just really dumb. I can't help it you know? I just, need another chance. I would prefer not to deal with the periphery at this point. I'd like not to think about those comments. and then in the early hours, the city gets it's 2 hours. yeah even new york. Even here in my hometown. it sleeps, trust me, so they go down to this place we like, alone. and we order something good, something excessive right out of Ernest's head.

Telescopic Project

Deskside, where I hold court in the evenings and weekend afternoons, my spectacular IQ denominator presides, holding itself in contempt, loving every minute of it, and, like the little symbols for whales and birds, it eagerly anticipates the migration back North. Evidence precedes me, my old friends know me well. I scatter my one, benign secret into other secrets, and then type them into password boxes on the Internet. If password boxes could talk they’d bore you to tears, but if you could somehow monitor their dreams…I bet you’d find out a lot about people.

But besides all that, there is this word I know. I have literally met the word and extended my hand to it. It was a firm handshake. I can’t tell you what an impression it made on me the first time I met it – and sometimes, I think back to that first meeting: “what’s the use in worrying?”

The legend knew the word well and somehow never entered the arena of public disdain. It’s interesting because to me he transcends the spectrum of society that I grapple with all the time. So I test myself with that, the Legend’s Paradox.

Wurst - Delicatessen

Soldiers march towards my castle, I ignore them they follow me to the master bedroom. So we mix I see cracks and smoke-filled limelights. I recently trembled, I fell I fall. I live alone with the film reels. I sing sometimes...with my urban metronome. Flashes of dreams spark my lonely film reels. So they click and spark and cloud up like a powderball, a French memory a recent regret.

And at nighttime...

Carving up the streets rodeo-railroad-style, slicing the sidewalks, slow-dancing firelight. Reflective marble tiles the green, the gold, the squeaky chairs. The friends, like the refreshing water on the first day of summer. Remind me of home of slavery, lately I think of my emancipation...honestly, I have faith in it. I worry she'll stammer towards me, I'll find myself stranded looking lazily down at the hardwood floor, a stain, another, a sliver of my own armaggedon - rushing to privacy, forgot the secret ingredient, hehe, gotcha. In a slicked out, metal shell, yeah, the one you shot under my chapped lip healer.

So the plan has to be...try again tomorrow while there's tomorrow.