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Vertical Prose

August 9th, 2010

like any other night @ 04:36 am

Saturn is sitting on top of Venus
Mars is sitting next to her
Mercury in on his way to run into this mess
and the moon is almost dead

can I stop this anxiety?

I'm not responsible for anyone else's life
I can't be
but I can be for my own

Saturn is a big dark bully
but Fuck You Dad
no, Fuck YOU Dad
I'm tired of not living my dreams

I mean
I know
I have
you have
they have

are we all tired?
what about you?
seems all the men I've loved stop short
we're paralyzed
shaking like leaves on the surface of the river
sweeping under
mingling with decay

my body is melting
mixed in with syrup
gummi bears
my arms are goop
and I can't seem to make my finger do much
I want to sing
but mostly grunt

I'm a fucking God
how'd I turn into such a troll

when does the wind blow?
33 weeks before death and eternal life
again again

October 13th
how do I grow backwards
to move forward?
or trace back my steps
out of this cul-de-sac
the edge of the cliff
I always said i jumped off in desperation
and learned how to fly
but I didn't
I just fell asleep there
on the ground
I'm still there
"I am the most free man there ever was, I never stopped escaping"

I stood on the edge
and let the wind blow through me
scattered my leaves to the wind
wild topiary
or less..

I keep talking about the economics of live
to myself
like hidden poems
blocking communication

hungry for sugar!

I can't be concerned for them right now
not now
them not living their dreams
is their deal
I gotta
I gotta try and fail
I gotta try and fly

I gotta

what else would I do?


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Date:August 9th, 2010 05:46 pm (UTC)

on the edge

THE PASS by Rush
Proud swagger out of the schoolyard Waiting for the world's applause
Rebel without a conscience Martyr without a cause
Static on your frequency Electrical storm in your veins
Raging at unreachable glory Straining at invisible chains

And now you're trembling on a rocky ledge Staring down into a heartless sea
Can't face life on a razor's edge Nothing's what you thought it would be

All of us get lost in the darkness Dreamers learn to steer by the stars
All of us do time in the gutter Dreamers turn to look at the cars
turn around and turn around and turn around Turn around and walk the razor's edge
Date:August 21st, 2010 10:07 am (UTC)

hidden poems

Touch down hard, penis hard, where are we? Are we there yet?
Must we cry? And for whom? Small sad creatures or the glory of creation?
Tied up in emotions, held back by disappointment!
Mere impulses flowing through synapses have more right to protestation!

Dare to touch the earth
Try to see the sun
Nothing does not become you,
Run with life, run! Run!

Vertical Prose