thats the way we get by

2005-07-26, 11:40 p.m.

i knew a man with cancer and a killer set of records. we would sit on the carpet in his living room -the braided throw rug pressed against my thighs- and listen to all his favorite bands. the stones, one light in the corner by the wilted plant, we became models for the imminent success of entropy in a system whose soundtrack included Angie.

she used to cut up advertisements of models wearing designer clothes, and she used to tape them to her front window. in her most comfortable chair she would sit with a cup (old and cracked, stained with the relentless sun of coffee) of tea and watch the men in Gucci sport coats walk by the sickly women in versace furs.

i walk into the same traps still, it makes me wonder if the mind isnt just running on a track. if you concentrate on the dirt-beat of the path, you never notice the turns repeat.

i look
away and scratch my chin
idle thoughts turn over
like a car engine
ignite me
take the makeshift images
burn them because
even pictures wilt in the
flames

ill leave my phone behind for days. if i think i could, i would walk as far from this place as possible. CROSS YOUR HEART, it will get cut up someday and then i will bleed like everyone else. just look up and its worth smile over: the silky gray clouds conceal flickering
white sand in the sky. remember the flower exploding from its stem, just like the supernova ejects from the universal womb with a heart stopping scream of light and pure force.

thats been a while, i should say, since the cosmos hit me hard enough to express my feelings. id like to think someone or something can remove my callous coat that has fit so well the last two years.
i do believe that i will see the strangest worlds again, when i am immersed in the beeing next to me; ill wrap my heart with her and go to sleep.