me and february 09
it’s an open door and the imagination has me on my back – i’m lying in the bathtub letting the water creep in and out of my open mouth and there is a fly on the wall and he is staring at my naked body and probably laughing to himself or thinking of nothing and who would ever know? i am inspired. i am desired by a feeling that won’t let me go, who will hold me through it all and when i close my eyes the feeling is masturbating to fine art and eating wonder bread jelly sandwiches alone in the back room of an apartment –
checking the time on a crazy little digital clock that hardly works and the paintbrushes are caked with dry paint.
it lost it’s eyesight when it stepped in front of a –
severe loneliness comes with the territory and i am believing that more and more each day.
i’ve walked around the neighborhood – feeling above myself looking down into my hair and not feeling the way my feet hit the pavement amid the piles of old, shaggy, porn books and cigarette butts and the music is there, somewhere, and i’m racing past the mailbox – bold and full of a sadness that makes the clouds turn a darker shade of shit.
there are so many words and so little years and i will scream them all by the side of the grave, just in time to watch the leaves change and see the last person walk swiftly away down to the bottom of the hill.
it’s a sunny day in memory-land. for just moments. and my hands are stuffed into my pockets and i recognize the dream is over.
I Like the new pic instead of the sad avatar. π
π thank you. the sad avatar was just constantly reminding me how bad i am at drawing things on a computer.