a schizophrenic throwing up into the toilet,
now the quaint outdoors of crisp air, coffee sittings and city parks
washes it clean.
that special death you gave to me
one that i've enacted so much for us in alternate ways
i think i understand,
in a way.
now we are left to begin
whence we left of,
the shuffle of books and ideas and hip hop
this time text messages for a relational turn
i pray to our most obscure deities to soften the lonely blow for you
and know the fires still burn.
the forest is dense,
the awakening distant
the fucking panic close at hand
no maxim could save us in these moments
so we tune in to the punk rock bands;
or instrumental hip hop,
for a little angst relief across a s. side spectrum
of lofted bodies crucified in upstart bourgouis air(s)--;
keep bitterness for this world close like a bible
maybe the gideons on yr chest pocket
when the bullet lands there.
and drink deep my friend
for life swerves and charges down the lanes
the intense intimidation of nervous systems
swerving to bring it all up to use again.
so we'll play the art blues with soul
not just any old art
not just any old blues
not just any old soul
an old soul
haunting a mythos
were the canyons of pain
are echoed upon with
and if we get to play washington, MO
maybe it will all be better
as the days creep crepuscular,
aspirations of content-
but a romping ground for giants
they'll never write us down in history for our emotions
or fears or strife
but we've earned that place in heaven, in the stars nonetheless
for our funky dreams
and hawaii trips
the crisp air coddles me
does it coddle u in the same manner,
i sure as shit hope that it does.