Writing to grow flowers out of my dead thoughts usually late late dark late at night the gem hours: red with the tunnel vision of 2am to fear in avoiding paranoia winter dreaming and waking up to the world streaming light into the window, but it’s colder then it looks out there- deceptive weather keeping things interesting
Weather and this life are strange like how it would snow in the more southern neighborhoods by Kristin’s house on Jackson St. (near where the old german man sold chocolate) and stay dry by my house
Stay dry by Anthony’s pizza where I went to dinner when my grades were good and after the Christmas pageant when I walked off the wrong side of the stage- it’s always been a horror- to give my body and attention to a room full of people with high expectations
I guess that’s why it’s necessary to continue to try to prove fathers wrong who stick themselves into bad situations and recording studios and stay away forever
Now: dead grass the only nature around and Strattera to numb the high decibel level of the mess- a loud scream, a reminder of tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow red tomorrow of having to follow through
I write to find a way out of the quick sand- a reason to get out of bed.