here we stand, unsteady
on the border, the precipice, the top
as the wind courses through us
as we fail
to grasp concepts that are much larger
than our physical capacities, of flesh
(and not even at each others' fingertips)
if we close our eyes and free-fall
into the swirls of dust and numbers that do not add up
and sparkling red wine that tasting of rust (but
our mouths are dry no matter how much we drink it,
you don't see it but i see
the ground cracking beneath and the blame
is on me)
the alcoholic's pain of a burning stomach,
a proof of living sane
after the rain and after the flowers die out
maybe death will be the next normalcy
and thoughts on morbidity a visionary trait
haven't we lost enough already, even words
with no meaning attached behind clean facades,
arranged in rhythm, soft and without edge
designed, then, to praise and placate
is it not a crime to do so/ how can we ever
avert our gazes and say the sky is blue?
(maybe i feel too much)
you feel, but you do not understand
my jumble of words, aimed not for comprehension
(and so today i'll hope the pills work
when i see tomorrow's sunrise a bit of light
will hit my face saying it will all be alright while)
life in its entirety derails
but you still laugh,
at the mimetic surfaces of the feigned everyday
waiting for summer