its a discontorted reality birthed from the mush of what is and could be´s but wasn´t and won´t yet still carries the presence of that which should have been what hadn´t seen before.
its a cold beer getting warm, one of three put in the fridge next to the cheese and butter under the liver across from the milk and the jelly who wanted to be eaten but only saw the hot get cold, I´ll drink you slowly tonight.
its this little fly that keeps landing on my left arm as I stare at blue capped deoderant canisters wishing for the year 1995 video game joy as I shake a shake and eat coconut tasting cookies with no coconut anything listed in the ingrediants.
its the warm night slipping his fingers down the back of your pants as you inch forward resisiting what you secretly want, a bead of sweat runs over your lips as you cry out and find your own hands reaching where warms ones wont.
its an unfinished pool that needs five truck loads of sand, three of rocks, five of dirt because the dirt can´t touch the sand and the the rocks can´t touch the pool if we want to swim while the sun is high and the clouds are sparse.
its that feeling you get as your walking up dark steps and you run you run and you never know why, its the listening without having to know, its the yes to your goodbye, its the I can so I will move on, its the no longer a boy I finally feel like a man, its any pants are too tight with a hard on.
its life.