I miss heaven
then I think about what its for...
then I'm watching mucus being influenced by dust,
spit celled by detritus on a dry road,
a fast dehydrating route between two towns I didn't/don't want to stop in.
I know the drunkenness of disbelief:
i) bouncing off objects;
ii) trying and failing to move a weight;
iii) reasoning to a crash test dummy;
iv) eating a small portion from an edible bowl;
v) knocking up jokes to the disdain of mutes.
I don't know what it would have been like to have never heard,
when any words strained me into a pretending that pride could later march into the courts.
I couldn't care about tomorrow when I am as convinced as any other resistance-of-the-past,
nothing so heroic as martyr, just a bad advertisement for tough meat .
this isn't me,
of course,
I am some nothing,
narrating,
cool breezes don't remain effectual for my eternity,
but this might be a story worth acting in,
one where my laugh falls from my skull into my stomach,
one where I finally see myself die, if not because I'm an interesting character, but because I made the transition into one: somewhat plausibly.
one where the audience had left or never arrived and I was shouting so loudly I hadn't been informed.
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
I miss heaven
then I think about what its for...
then I'm watching mucus being influenced by dust,
spit celled by detritus on a dry road,
a fast dehydrating route between two towns I didn't/don't want to stop in.
I know the drunkenness of disbelief:
i) bouncing off objects;
ii) trying and failing to move a weight;
iii) reasoning to a crash test dummy;
iv) eating a small portion from an edible bowl;
v) knocking up jokes to the disdain of mutes.
I don't know what it would have been like to have never heard,
when any words strained me into a pretending that pride could later march into the courts.
I couldn't care about tomorrow when I am as convinced as any other resistance-of-the-past,
nothing so heroic as martyr, just a bad advertisement for tough meat .
this isn't me,
of course,
I am some nothing,
narrating,
cool breezes don't remain effectual for my eternity,
but this might be a story worth acting in,
one where my laugh falls from my skull into my stomach,
one where I finally see myself die, if not because I'm an interesting character, but because I made the transition into one: somewhat plausibly.
one where the audience had left or never arrived and I was shouting so loudly I hadn't been informed.
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