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On Fleeting Thoughts:

++every now and then i’ll look again

out an opposite window to see

the same things, in the same light

i asked for peace

and to fill my head with perspective

i’d look you in the eyes

but this recurring scenery

sets me back face down

where my eyes pierce the air

to the gouged and grave ground

the colorful bracelet i wear

doesn’t mean as much as i wish

you would

i’ll hang you so high

i’ll hang you from a street light

if it meant you’d be there

but we don’t have many of those around here

i guess the silo

would fit your ego

and the tractor will knock it down

to be collected and fed to the world

...

if i ever got the chance

to make my way to the moon

the only place

where you haven’t been found

i’d write your name in the dust

like atop the mountain

where we made love

but the wind was hot that day

and the woods blocked the sound

of the fault giving way

to our blanket and our bodies

so we dove deep down

where i’ve stayed until today

i’ve lived and breathed

all the air beneath the seas

in an open field where i cut my knees

the grass breaks to wheat

i was either born again or realized home was dead

and the high school i attended

tried to coat the walls in my tongue too

put a pump jack to my lips

tried to surface the words i said

but i’ll say it again, i’m mine until i’m dead

don’t make me say it again, i’m mine until i’m dead

 

++in italy, where all the roads are made of dirt

the pebbles make a sound

and whisper the rest of what we know

to the gouged and gravel ground

your fingers touch the stones

where your mind seems to seep

down into the earth

and back up through your teeth

your hair is cut so short

compared to what it was

your arm is torn to tethers

that keep your body bound

leather like the face of love

so beaten like the wooden screen

...

through and through, and threw

your scarf

into the wind

into the snow

bright beaming colors wrap around your lips

and into the drain

around the brick

i’d wish for the patterns i sleep with

to be everything they could

in the sense that light won’t ever slow

so pace yourself against the wind

the gears will turn as you type them in

the hammers have been built

and the hand shakes have been firm

coordination isn’t key

but opens the door to the fighting alone

but i’ll say it again, i can make it on my own

don’t make me say it again, i can make it on my own

 

++i want a movie inside my mind

like the arms of her dress

burying books in the sand

on a black, flat stage

on every morbid wednesday

(the beach blonde scars

on every bleach blonde head)

your face looks squished

from the weight of your brain

juggles ignorance

i’ve done things i regret

but wouldn’t take back

that’s called sorry

it’s all called something sorry

...

like blue synthesis capsules

full floating, flying

lick the side to make sure tiles flow

automatic black glass

opaque lights

glowing blue lines keep the glue on tight

hospital bracelets keep your archetypes

fatherly fatherly fatherly hugs

inside the apartment

kicking the front steps

porches absent on our heads

your green t-shirt

taken off quickly

and faded blue jeans

with no belt to lock them

ready and not waiting for no one to jump in

off the dock in new jersey

at the palisades cliffs

i felt the back of your neck just before your lips

the scars from your dad melted away

they morphed into something pretty

and i remember you gripped

on the wood where we sat

and all my dead cells begged to be brought back

as we both looked into the other

a blue blanket and a pillow too white to be confused

with anything other than something owned by you

apart so quickly, laid content and prepared

to wake up and die

like any sane person would do

(for us the tiny grains of sand meet the hanging paper lamps

lines next to curves next to lines

is a way to write what we said)

but i’ll say it again, i’ll never give in

don’t make me say it again, i’ll never give in

 

++clear plastic ridges

painted a lovesick sky

(cut the sun with the branches

your eyes, your eyes, your eyes)

timidly timidly timidly

you said look at the moon

but i’d rather see you

your face looks better sideways

like the way you walk

outside when the moons orbit the halo

you never folded up

or tried to conceal inside

like the treaty you signed

around the insulation

that dampers your thought process

that dictates your walking steps

(love and LSD

blood and rusted trees)

on top of the world

falling through the streets

the scents are the same

and remind me of safety

that i applied to the dimension of the squared and faulty

lines

buy i’ll say it again, i hate that you’ve absorbed others’ dreams

don’t make me say it again, i hate that you’ve absorbed others’ dreams

 

++(i would like to smell a pool)

i think we lost it all

but it happened while we lost ourselves

or we’re knitted together perfectly

so we’ll never understand the whole scheme of things

i wish you’d tell me everything

you’ve become a mold that all your friends will fit into

the opposite of trees

we will **** it down through our feet

(not through our teeth)

I will wear my bandana once again

blue stained gold

even your hair has lost most of the effect

that it had on my soul

colorado was a place to remember

where i remember you most

even though we never went there alone

should i be glad i no longer feel the pain

or sad it’s not there?

because what that entails is me  not caring

and forgetting that you even forgot

you’re forgetting how it felt

you remind me of my dad

how every thing’s connected

and you stay away from the earth

and touching the ground

and we know i’m intuitive

so it means something when i say things

it means i’m right on some phase

or some plane of things

don’t tell me you’re not falling because i’ve seen it too many times

to mistake it for anything other

than what the passed over people do

it’s hard to look forward

and tougher to take a step

part of finding what you want is saying it’s there

but catch up into the trailer

fibres into the helium we wear

the generations have not been remembered

...

(the murals on the walls fade to intersectional colors)

...

primary walks into a green room

and says we’ve never made a thing

to make our lives better

and he talks about what’s underground

he talks about the padding on the seats

how that’s where we should’ve stopped

we’ve been backwards since the beginning

we’ve been backwards from the start

but i’ll say it again, i’m alive, i’m falling apart

don’t make me say it again, i’m alive and i’m falling parts

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Written by
dustin-holbrook
Published
Aug 16, 2012
Lines·Words
207·1.2k
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