I write,I write, I write!
I sing and smoke!
I sit by an ancient-like oak tree
And choke
On the thoughts In front of me.
I recklessly dabble within shameless ramblings,
Often-times taken in by the seemingly bitter, and
Bleak senselessness of it all...
Get all sunburned like a bruised peach
Under the Suns afternoon glaze,
While remaining content;
Content to be, and breathe,
But In the night I come undone, laughing and
Swaying,
Taking It all In!
Blinking mine eyes trying to remember faces
Upon faces above necks
Did I eat or wrest?
Some dementia soothed away
My exhaustion
And appetite
Vinyl-record like fun,
Images ever more expansive,
Brighter; more extreme
In thought and deed.
Journeying to edges unseen
In my mind sitting still,
But somehow racing on weary
Limbs; numb.
Do I become these thoughts?
Do they become Me?
Dim glow, soft through
A doorway, On suburban streets noticing
The lamps through the windows and curtains down
Echoes of beats and bruises;
On our way to a "get together";
The everyday
Woven through,
And inside out,
Of Infinity