A dangerous excitement like encountering a rattlesnake, poised, in the path. Your move, he hisses. The torch is lit in the center of the stadium but the stadium is built of flimsy and flammable material, the whole damn construction ablaze, as a matter of fact statement regarding the ignorant placement of such a supposedly impressive mantelpiece. There are no chestnuts roasting. Nothing roasting at all besides our skin cells in the baking sun. There are oceanside controversies. The extreme prices for roadside parking and the violent, unimpressed, traffic. never allowing any warmth for an outsider. we can be outsiders together, finding new friends, remaining as outsiders, but without a secure job I am loaf, socially outcast, vulnerable to plagues and obsessive creative outpour. Vulnerable to become great at the things I've tried to become great at. In time maybe. Never forget where you are though, soldier. This is war and all around are life and death moments worth capturing. Experience the scent of those wonderful cinnamon flowers, work out acting skills and accents, convince the lady with huge fingernails of place of origin. Picked up this accent from english television. Save those emotional goodbyes for later and we can talk about what it is to fall so heavily in love and in hope for the unknown the financial freedom, however temporary, to make the best things in life happen. No longer pushing dreams back beyond pay checks and the price of a soul is way too low these days. "I hope I never see you again." meant in a good way like they hope I never end up getting that shit job again.
Soothsayer, fall around me with your words and visions. Will there be colors in lights our names inside? Sunsets will make more sense. On beaches past tense. Rigid. Rigged. Tell me the secret thread of time is something tangible that I can throttle or kiss. That softening fabric, disintegrates at the very brief thought of it. Nothing ties it all together. but maybe there is an enchanted perspective to this sacred life. god, stay out of this talk. this is meant to be about men from men with no ghosts haunting outer recesses. we are here and we are now. i wish to know how to contemplate my reality in the best way. never adapting a mass opinion. i wish to formulate my own. been doing fine. pick your teeth with toothpick chewing tobacco and marijuana seeds the face of the american dream screaming in horror most nights from foreign nightmare the war torn hero and the mattress that served as a resting place for his father before him. middle-aged, well aware, too aware, that if some accident does not befall him, he will die in that very bed.
