Sunday, May 25, 2014

-The only thing sadder than crying
is being aware of not being able to-

he tells himself,
stuck in a glare pointed out into the wet street,
as raindrops roll down the window pane before his face.
He wishes the sky to be his eyes
and the window pane his cheeks
the wet road his feet

he wishes he was slightly more animal
for want of pure fear
rather than hatred of whom he fears
he'd rather nip at scarce blades of grass
In the deathly heat
than sleep on heaps of hay in a dark
comfortable cave
he'd rather wear his hooves to the bone
than to decide the best brand of shoe glue
or which word he can use for
concrete
without being sued or screwed into
he'd rather read the information of the skies
with naïve perceptions
of gods, Capricorns and light beings
than with what he is now forced to consider as
scientific, gaseous and the yet to be defined
He is forced to walk fifty centimetres
above the mud of the mangroves,
along the board walk, pretending.
Just as he is forced to walk an inch above the one he loves,
pretending
pretending to be a good man
when good men don't exist
pretending to have no lips
because good men don't try to kiss

burnt out buildings seem more real
when he's looking for a place to live
sleeping shirtless on doorsteps seems more real
than finding a job to wake up to,
when the morning suits step on by sweating gel and perfume
-real- is a human word and so it must be that which he can touch
he believes
but he knows there exists a real beyond human touch
a real that has not yet been copy written
and crying is not necessary there
and awareness is worth the same
as the price of making sense
which comes to a total of nothing
your change being everything
and the ninety ninth sense

he's not concerned with appealing to
or marching with
the masses
even if that mass is a minority
even if that mass is thought to have beautiful fur

they cry together
in anger together
as they warn each other of impeding doom
he prefers the doom of his own solitude
and the hole of admitting it
he doesn't expect anyone to throw him a shovel
but wishes some one would all the same

-the only thing worse than digging yourself into a hole
is denying the hole is a grave.-

Saturday, May 10, 2014