My nostrils stay cold in the warm weather, cold in the rain, a forever remnant of the days of ******* and truck beds. I inhale and exhale the poison of cigarettes, but the shotgun electricity of the little white lines pierces the folds of memory. As much as I ache to forget, I can still feel the powder laying latent underneath my fingernails.
The days of wanting stress are replaced by wanting to alleviate it. I'd rather not sit and listen to your scratching your tense fingertip-tapping jitters. Silent leg shaking bouncing making my records skip. The dust-covered dumpster-dived needle has stress enough without your additions, subtractions, multiplications. You sneeze white and red, the signs of frustrated futures and presents. The record skips back to one, water stained, nothing changes.
I once played without direction and felt it cheap and unnecessary, like angels that breathe deeply underwater. Grasping for sympathy and votes of confidence. Forging intimate connections without it, needing wanting grabbing feebly into the air. Desperation never even gets a chance. We are strong as equals, love dissipating into the aether, waiting watching wandering wishing waking.
I tried to bend and not break, divide and not conquer. I tripped on the wire, skinned knees, forgetting. The clouds of gray hang low low in the air. I will hold strong to my promises, even in this time of turmoil and smashed faces. My foot will stay planted. I will move forward. I will keep on keep on keep on.
Even when they doubt me, I will keep on.
