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"backtracking" poems
Honesty is the best policy, One we've chosen to abstain. Honestly I'd rather you be honest with me; Walking on eggshells we could refrain. Tiptoeing around so we don't step upon the cracks in our floors, Holding our breath tight so we don't breath in the thick truth- God forbid we just speak honestly anymore, God forbid we let all of the unsaid thoughts loose. Honestly I can't say I know you like I once did, And that's absolute fact. All because we have absolutely forbid Ourselves from a backtrack- Backtracking to when we could actually talk without thinking before speaking Or worrying about what we have said. No worries of the truth leaking From our honest hearts and heads. I don't want your meaningless quips, Your aimless remarks. I prefered the small notes on slips, Our conversations in the dark. Honesty is the best policy, A policy we tried and found true- A policy we have declined to upkeep, A policy we once knew.
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Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
Honesty is the best policy
I. Sunday mornings in Vancouver even pigeons sleep in till 10 A.M. Undaunted, I walk down Granville shortly before 8 seeking lox bagels with capers, red onions and cream cheese, two breve lattes, and a newspaper. In truth, panhandlers on the corner of Robson have far greater chance of scoring. An unexpectedly sunny February morn suffices to spur me on. I am attuned to all vibration. Breath of the awakening city exhales manna upon the shop awnings. Bagels rendered superfluous, I scarf images instead --- trolley buses, an umbrella shop, falafel stands --- delicious Canadian visual cuisine.                                  II. Vancouver is a nymph. Of that I'm sure. I hear flirtatious giggles trill from darkened alleys between hotels. Spotted her once across the street on Dunsmuir, seated on a walk bench reading a Margaret Atwood novel. Bus passed between us and she vanished. Caught a later glimpse through the window of a walk-up dim sum restaurant in Chinatown. Flew the stairs, only to find an empty table and discarded napkin smudged with candy pink lipstick. She watches me.                                                 III. Turns out there are no Sunday morning papers in Vancouver, but I locate the bagels and espresso backtracking on Helmcken. The barista smiles as I approach, sets down her Atwood novel. I leave a Toonie in gratuity. B.C. wind pushes hard on my turned back, as I rush our breakfast back to the Executive. A nymph goes roller-blading by toward False Creek. The Gastown Steam Clock whistles that it's 10 A.M. A flock of pigeons lifts in flight.
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Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 2:04 PM UTC
In Search of Cuppuccino
I. Sunday mornings in Vancouver even pigeons sleep in till 10 A.M. Undaunted, I walk down Granville shortly before 8 seeking lox bagels with capers, red onions and cream cheese, two breve lattes, and a newspaper. In truth, panhandlers on the corner of Robson have far greater chance of scoring. An unexpectedly sunny February morn suffices to spur me on. I am attuned to all vibration. Breath of the awakening city exhales manna upon the shop awnings. Bagels rendered superfluous, I scarf images instead --- trolley buses, an umbrella shop, falafel stands --- delicious Canadian visual cuisine.                                  II. Vancouver is a nymph. Of that I'm sure. I hear flirtatious giggles trill from darkened alleys between hotels. Spotted her once across the street on Dunsmuir, seated on a walk bench reading a Margaret Atwood novel. Bus passed between us and she vanished. Caught a later glimpse through the window of a walk-up dim sum restaurant in Chinatown. Flew the stairs, only to find an empty table and discarded napkin smudged with candy pink lipstick. She watches me.                                                 III. Turns out there are no Sunday morning papers in Vancouver, but I locate the bagels and espresso backtracking on Helmcken. The barista smiles as I approach, sets down her Atwood novel. I leave a Toonie in gratuity. B.C. wind pushes hard on my turned back, as I rush our breakfast back to the Executive. A nymph goes roller-blading by toward False Creek. The Gastown Steam Clock whistles that it's 10 A.M. A flock of pigeons lifts in flight.
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38
Dublin is soaking, ink running on sentences, churning on the page. America is splintering, (the suburbs specifically, not the nation) into leftovers of Ticonderoga No 2. These streets breathe in and out and up to clouds illuminated by the Temple Bar, as people stream through Dublin's narrow straights, running thick and bright and damp soaked with the scent of amber, brimming with warm words like barley and hops, the world reflected through the half-empty glasses abandoned to rest stale at the bar. This boy is a livewire to a madness, quivering gasps flying to spark on her tongue when she finds the kiss in the corner of his mouth is tightly stitched in with the sound of each smile. Her hand still clings to the smells of sweat and beer with miles of backtracking ahead.
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May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 9:46 PM UTC
Poetically Reproducing A Dublin Fling
Ross was good, Part-Choctaw, Part-Saskatchewan, he'd sniff the air for his direction, could spot a pebble out of place, understand broken twigs. He loved to work at night, backtracking was a skill, garroting his specialty, he had fourteen dings. Part-Celt, Part-Heinz-57 I understood similar things, my notches stand at just under ten.
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Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
Notches
12:05 am, drunk text, honest words fingers brush the send button message sent reads the screen, sweaty palms, backtracking hit delete, no use
 eyes close, deep breath message received 1:00 am, sober thoughts angry groan, swear words escape your lips, waiting, hoping, praying hit open, no use eyes close, deep sigh no reply 3:16 am, point of no return parallel realities flash by one good, one bad one yes, one no call him? no use eyes close, almost asleep one new text
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Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
The Point of No Return
You attempt to comfort me Yet my discomfort is being without you I torture myself with the past Reliving my mistakes Backtracking paths of broken glass Barefoot and bleeding regret Striving to forget the past Be in the now HOPING for a future together For I do not deserve another chance Yet I wish for nothing more I lay my head to sleep & wish you were beside me Accompanied by emptiness Fall asleep and dream of you Dreams, Where I feel whole again Where this hole in my heart is filled Only to wake up to the unholy truth I am without you
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Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
Miss May
A March dusk blotted stale bodies; jet-black water ran thick with puerile inks and imparted abandon. Head shrouded in cobalt mist, night idled by a black pane that rang dull and flat. Backtracking rooks caught the vacant eye: threading a monarchical purple cloak to hoard the transient days.
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Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 10:12 PM UTC
March 3.
are the first among us in early spring to notice the flowers, taking notes and comparing posture. they look strangers in the eye like no other, as though the least amount of recognition were the most familiar. they sweep lonely men off their feet, just one encounter and the lonely men in turn go searching for the trail they've left through this city, in crowded alleys, in libraries, in the park at dusk, in a statues rust, at a trafficless intersection. everywhere there are traces of their presence, like a dustbowl in its aftermath, if only the dust were silver and the violent winds intruded on the stillness to hold up shelter against the oceans of desert. i met the loneliest of them all, the postulate that nature offered was now her ex-lover and recovery would be backtracking. lonely women are the last to be pitied, and lonely women were not always lonely. you must have experienced the kind of love that is unbridled to experience that kind of lonely. Lonely women will be lonely until they die, so that by the time lovers wake up together she will have already offered herself to the soil so that by the time they take their first step out of the bed she will have already become minerals.
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Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 7:35 AM UTC
the lonely women
I like listening To other people’s lives They all live them… In ways so different than mine. / I drive slowly To watch the other faces Reactions… Expressions… These first impressions that won’t leave a scratch. Because even if I ever do see them again, I won’t place the face to the situation. / I firmly trespass and trod through The footsteps of others before me. Maybe I’m swerving in reverse— backtracking from their desired progress. Moving away from the glorified destination that their sights and eyes were so surely set upon. Or possibly I’m shadowing their paths. / They watch me observing. But I’d never consider that this innocent people-watching may put the victim in an uncomfortable setting of my gaze and of my attention. I intrude, analyze… do everything in my power to better understand. / So why can’t I give room for everyone else to do that as well? //
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Aug 8, 2010
Aug 8, 2010 at 12:16 PM UTC
Panorama
*At scratch, discern you’ll either win the duel or face defeat Before you go the distance warrant you’re set to dust your feet for when a cycle is heavily ridden it unquestionably must squeak Afore you relish a plum you most probably will ascend her tree so be sure you can swim before you plunge into the sea as if you can’t you may lamentably pay very high a fee. Even before you contemplate a “happily ever after’, a fairytale, a forever tune your grip to clench the hot rod ‘for better for worse’ scorching of blessings in the moment and every awaiting curse and also fine-tune your lips to never say never Before you stir the limpid prepare to deal with every ripple for you won’t march over mines unless you want to ******* before you poke the bear, beware of the wrath of forked flame because when you blister, you’ll have you to gulp pain and blame before you leave, truth and no lie you ought to explain why and also be willing to say goodbye for at times there’s no backtracking, before a tantalizing hegira you must be sure don’t walk off to Medina when the Kaaba you seek is back in Mecca and turn out to be the reason you’re judged a faker since prior sailing they say, one must be ready to lose sight of the shore before you route for emerald pastures, learn how to mow don’t say “No” when you feel different, or yes for ‘No’ and ultimately, you must be ready to face the universe afore you speak.*
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Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 4:04 PM UTC
Impossible's Philosophy
Bet you can't remember, One year and two days ago. Not the face of the boy, You let into your home. Met him that day, Friend of a friend. Hospitality swayed, And you let me right in. "What was his name? I dunno but he made me smile. Laughed all day, And made out for a while. Was an odd kid, Always wore running shoes. Said I was his first kiss, I even whipped his **** out for a few." O girl you have no idea, How often you come to mind. A memory of the past, A happier moment in time. Haven't spoken to you, In one year and two days. Though I tried twice, That didn't get me further in your maze. So now I am backtracking, Eating crumbs off the floor. I can't believe it's been one year and two days, Since I've met that *****
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Apr 16, 2012
Apr 16, 2012 at 3:36 PM UTC
One Year and Two Days
You call and say I'm aberrant You don't wanna be stuck indoors deviating I don't like your storms I miss your floodwaters I need an affectional sleet I miss your earthquakes Then you came with all your quaking You must think I'm an aftershock You must think I'm abnormal Now I can't find the volcanism without you Volcanism without you Queer and two Like the ingenue over slew Subthalamic and cuckoo And I'm dancing because you're undue Twisters ain't nothing when I'm betraying with ya Gay Do you mind if I steal a permafrost? I miss your downdrafts Calamities are not safe I don't like your cataclysms And every homosexuality is failsafe Then you came with all your frothing You must think I'm a calvinism It's time we had some infernos Will you hold me tight and not go flaming You don't wanna be stuck indoors backtracking When I'm shaming with ya Shaming with ya When I'm with you, all I have is inappropriate thoughts It's time we had some embarrassments I'm rebuking 'til dawn Na na na na gay Na na gay Like the tray over buffet Na na na na gay Like the valet over heyday Transgender and ok Got more halfway
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May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 5:59 PM UTC
I'm Weird, So Just Don't Read This
Backtracking towards the Light oh! Fakir, brilliant shiny Bright Neophyte hypnosis, take me In.. oh! Beloved, fragile tendrils of my desire heartfully hear me, hear Me.. my heartfelt Prayers, I do not fear to tread into the highest vapours. Clandestine Clementine! not One Breath but Three times itself, squared. Blaspheme! not forsaken, dripping drapes blindsided, blindly onwards... not forsaken Sight! Hear me, Hear Me.. Bless'ed be my Name!
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Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 10:43 AM UTC
Backtrack Blindly
Inside, is this thing about me, it has stolen my voice, It's like ash has seeped into my lungs from an invisible fire fueled by hatred, it has broken my will to stand on two legs, a gentle world slipped out from under the covers, forgotten, In my arms a purring cat that reminds me of the ocean waves crashing along the shore of a place I once felt at peace, it's frustrating to lose track of such wonderful memories, I feel insane, but I am calm and understand that this is just a phase, chapters on the moon are written in the clouds in day I realized now, either this mind is too creative than what I think capable or my abilities have left me with only formal beginnings, so breaking the mold has not left me with many options, Indeed sleep and food will provide healing when it seems fit, but for some reason I would better wish luck could do some providing, this hard effort has made me sick, Indebted to silence, my rain check has finally been checked off, the papers folded and what's left of the ink is saved for my last breath. Incurable, only by my diagnosis, and only a poet am I, not a doctor, this in lies the problem, Indifferent about such touchy topics, resorting to backtracking my statements, fair enough? Indecisive? so are the current topics of the new world conspiracy, such a soft melody replaying in the foreground, as my mind goes out the back.
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Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 4:06 PM UTC
I
I remember your cashmere sweater Always soft against my cheek As you brushed my hair with your fingers And I would fall fast asleep I get that you have a new life You've replaced your baby with these children of yours And I wonder how you will tell them About the life you couldn't afford I'm so glad to see you're healthy No longer skin and bones Your track marks have healed so well But that skeleton was my home I know you still think about who you were Ash, you can't change over night I'm curious how you will break the news Or look at me and make things right You were my mom when our mother escaped And we were robbed of a childhood; forsaken But I am still hurting, still being mistaken Your halo is dimming, it was never that bright You'll always be an addict living a fight I'm happy we can have conversations Without your eyes involuntarily shutting It's sad that it makes me sad though You're what I think of when I'm cutting Your pedestal you placed yourself so high on I'm watching as it's cracking And you would be such a fool If you don't think I've been backtracking I've got these scars I didn't forget You are my nostalgia I am your regret
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Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 9:41 PM UTC
A Perfect Broken Picture
I know we haven’t talked in a while. Not since I recognized the decisive crack of your voice like a crinkling plastic gum wrapper and I let the phone fall. That was five years ago and I don’t know where you are now. But I’m writing this because I can’t stop writing about you and your shapes and your smells and you and white powder and you and religion and religious books neatly stacked and you and every piece of you and a rickety black tram bursting forth in the darkness and you and pockets of light that sometimes shine through in cocoons or at elegant dinners and you and aftershave and blood and muddy river water and you and flowers in porcelain vases and couches encased in plastic and you and I am endlessly backtracking to silent violations and black midnights riddled with hunger and confusion and I don’t know maybe some other time and it’s like our hands and wrists are bound together as though bandaged and the whites of my eyes are permanently reddened by an invisible fire’s breath or the glow of your face and even now everything won’t stop shaking and I just stare at my hands and tiles and patterns in carpets and I keep staring and staring forever only at things that won’t move away from me like inanimate objects but I’ll leave you here with a letter I’ll never mail because I’m no longer the quivering little girl beneath you and I’ll get ****** up again and think this is freedom, isn’t it? churning sweetness and liberality into my empty stomach? but then why does my mouth still taste like metal?
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Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 3:51 PM UTC
To My Captor
I know we haven’t talked in a while. Not since I recognized the decisive crack of your voice like a crinkling plastic gum wrapper and I let the phone fall. That was five years ago and I don’t know where you are now. But I’m writing this because I can’t stop writing about you and your shapes and your smells and you and white powder and you and religion and religious books neatly stacked and you and every piece of you and a rickety black tram bursting forth in the darkness and you and pockets of light that sometimes shine through in cocoons or at elegant dinners and you and aftershave and blood and muddy river water and you and flowers in porcelain vases and couches encased in plastic and you and I am endlessly backtracking to silent violations and black midnights riddled with hunger and confusion and I don’t know maybe some other time and it’s like our hands and wrists are bound together as though bandaged and the whites of my eyes are permanently reddened by an invisible fire’s breath or the glow of your face and even now everything won’t stop shaking and I just stare at my hands and tiles and patterns in carpets and I keep staring and staring forever only at things that won’t move away from me like inanimate objects but I’ll leave you here with a letter I’ll never mail because I’m no longer the quivering little girl beneath you and I’ll get ****** up again and think this is freedom, isn’t it? churning sweetness and liberality into my empty stomach? but then why does my mouth still taste like metal?
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39
I somehow feel the need to apologize. Still. After all this time. You sang like I was made of the earth and the wind The lovely things. And when I said those three words for the first time And you repeated them... My heart stopped and my soul flew. I was ready to give up my freedom and my future for you... Then you say we're growing apart, You tell him that you never loved me, don't like girls, dated me out of pity And I cried for five hours straight while my heart broke and my mind screamed 'I told you I'm not a girl.' Labor day isn't the same even all these years later. I still have to tell myself it's not my fault. You were on fawns legs, The who am I what I am where do I fit that comes with adolescence And you spoke me fair from the moment we met. I was so happy to finally have someone who saw me for me. I told you so soon 'I'm not a girl, I know it's hard to understand but...' And you say you don't care, nothing changes, I see stars in your eyes And I'm so happy to hold your hand in the hallway, No matter who stares. I should expect the backtracking. The fear. Your parents, who knows what they'd do. And you break it off quietly. Saying you don't think you really like girls. I am still not a girl. We don't really talk now. I just find it hard to feel anything but tired when I'm near you. Then you. You are a girl made of startuff. Your heart among the planets and constellations. I call you starshine and eventually I hope. I ask. I confess. I admit I planned my life with you. Big city apartment, stargazing far away from life, Leaving small town made of quicksand for higher hills and brighter skies. And you were the only one who ever called me by my name. Called me a boy. Gave me anything that felt real. And I know it hurt you to hurt me. I gave you my heart and you treated it as tenderly as you could have. I don't fault you for that. I don't fault you for anything. No matter what you make me feel real And I always have loved the stars.
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Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 9:19 PM UTC
To the girls who tried to love me
I somehow feel the need to apologize. Still. After all this time. You sang like I was made of the earth and the wind The lovely things. And when I said those three words for the first time And you repeated them... My heart stopped and my soul flew. I was ready to give up my freedom and my future for you... Then you say we're growing apart, You tell him that you never loved me, don't like girls, dated me out of pity And I cried for five hours straight while my heart broke and my mind screamed 'I told you I'm not a girl.' Labor day isn't the same even all these years later. I still have to tell myself it's not my fault. You were on fawns legs, The who am I what I am where do I fit that comes with adolescence And you spoke me fair from the moment we met. I was so happy to finally have someone who saw me for me. I told you so soon 'I'm not a girl, I know it's hard to understand but...' And you say you don't care, nothing changes, I see stars in your eyes And I'm so happy to hold your hand in the hallway, No matter who stares. I should expect the backtracking. The fear. Your parents, who knows what they'd do. And you break it off quietly. Saying you don't think you really like girls. I am still not a girl. We don't really talk now. I just find it hard to feel anything but tired when I'm near you. Then you. You are a girl made of startuff. Your heart among the planets and constellations. I call you starshine and eventually I hope. I ask. I confess. I admit I planned my life with you. Big city apartment, stargazing far away from life, Leaving small town made of quicksand for higher hills and brighter skies. And you were the only one who ever called me by my name. Called me a boy. Gave me anything that felt real. And I know it hurt you to hurt me. I gave you my heart and you treated it as tenderly as you could have. I don't fault you for that. I don't fault you for anything. No matter what you make me feel real And I always have loved the stars.
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45
I’ve been backstabbed I’ve been backhanded I’ve been backflipping money I've been backtracking destiny I’ve been backed into a corner I’ve been brought back I’ve been traveling backroads I’ve been treated with the backlash I’ve been left alone with no backups • They’ve told me to backdown I’m back on the ground Dugout deep in their backyard But I learn from the backwards See me now in my new backdrop I’m working harder then ever, I can’t feel the backache They want me to backup but my moves don’t backtrack So they now pull out a gun out of their backpack They’re here to take me out back But this time I’m standing up, I now have a backbone So I fire back
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Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 9:12 PM UTC
My Back
It's 1 AM and I can't sleep My eyes shut tight I just can't keep Thoughts of you splatter my vision Looks like once again I'm backtracking my decision Why can't I stay away from you That's like asking why is one plus one two I can't stop thinking about the love you give How I'd fall to pieces because without it I can't live You know how to make me crave you in every way I wish you'd stop playing with me, I want a say But this twisted love, it will never stop You'll stay until you **** me, until you make my heart pop Now it's 2 AM and I should go to bed Goodnight, I'll be dreaming about everything you've said.
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Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:36 AM UTC
Another Tainted Night
Distracted I wander, Following the wind as a parachute. Gliding on the backs of others efforts. High above the canape and their common roots. My mind never settling, Always thinking I've made a wrong turn. Backtracking, backtracking , was I ever on track, What track leads to what I yearn? Curtains' numbers one, two, three, four, Players play for prizes, hope not to get burned. Got a bad deal, don't win the sports car? Go home and buy a rope and raise some concern. Someone goes to stop you, Get what you want, by threats and scares. Instability will only balance if naivety is company, Show them the scars and burned hairs. What's the right choice!? I'm drowning in possibilities! Past chances sail away, As I sink to the bottom of the sea.
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Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 5:56 PM UTC
Instability
the words of a lie were true. they truthed uncertain territories backtracking forwards through the blurred clarity of certainty the words of a truth were untrue and they too believed facts which made fallacies masks and surfaced this- these ties twisted into lies so they created straight lines geometrically doing the undone connecting synapses making constellations for mapping the brain asymmetrically, star gazing blindly when similarity fades boldly, what is indifferent to the the same what is more contradicting than comparing the insane to the sane? yet this tangible diversion is simple and complex in validity and so. truth be told. a lie to be, is a truth to me. a truth for me, is a lie to be
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Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
Truth The Untruthed
Skin drys out, cracks, Breaks. Broken openings leak Seeping secrets screaming Blood bleeding black, gushing Spewing profusely From gaping holes of unknown notion. Absence of reality Flickering like static in the background. Backtracking through endless experiences, And falling through infinite possibilities. The same new thing. That new old feeling. Body crumbles, collides within itself. Scattered shards of fragmented potential, Now settling in the air- A film of dusty desolation left to subside. Left to fill the lungs of nobody, With sticky stinging, heavy thick Strangle choke of no one. Disintegrate, and Disappear.
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Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
DISINTEGRATE
And life was like a highway The Soul-- a car. The moments speeding by Blurring together. But how many times have you stopped Just to gaze-- Just to slow down, For once. For once? --why did matter How fast you were going, Or how slow the horizon was growing. For once: why drive at all? It seemed that: drive. All it seemed. All it is, really. Could you leave? Or are you stuck on this continuum? Maybe it was the way the sun's gaze (that day specifically) Held the world in such Un-timely grace. Like nostalgia held under the lime light. But it was gone as fast as it came, What's left is-- well-- memory. Couldn't you have stopped? And now it's stuck behind your mind. Like the black blotch Of a crack In your back window. But regret is no more than rear-view mirrors And and empty tank. Wouldn't the sunset be so much better If you weren't headed towards it? I mean-- How many times did you escape, Just to walk-- heck, To even measure how long The pavement lines were? Sometimes the best thoughts we have Are just backtracking to find gas. But that's regress... Isn't it? But maybe a new body on an old frame Doesn't cut it. You're worth less if you have miles. Yet without miles, you lack the rustic wisdom. --whatif What if death's the only destination. Then why even bother With where you're going? If the sunset fades-- Look, You could have all the moments Pass your window Or You could simply gaze.
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Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 3:42 PM UTC
And life was like a highway