Wednesday, December 7, 2011

page 33

words of the man becomes the man and the man becomes his words pardon my male centric writing the explanation of my words is sought in the biography of my life we are supposed to live our words and when we don’t the audience forces our lives into the mold of our words we write of death because we seek death we write of abuse because we have been abused we write of love because we have loved the simple mind seeks to reduce the complexity into small bits that can be understood they assimilate the small bits and leave the large bits to rot like forgotten dead flesh it is all because of our mothers they fucked us up like an average dumbass a stock photo of your scissors we have left you to yourself to cut your hair and save the clippings using them in your ritual of love casting a spell on me the pottery is unfortunate making me happy a shady piece of crap don’t get it twisted partner I am out here to expose the truth we are all friends here a force from nature obfuscate the truth she walked in and thought I was dead round characters and flat characters you weren’t keeping track of the score your voice floating through these steel walls assassinate the perfection kill the rejection pull it out of your pocket and flash it all around this aint money this is a fantasy land I’m sending to you so you can see it identify it place it in a police lineup the man is threatening me with incarceration with impossible dreams of leaving the jungle of someday walking like a free man with no scars upon his conscious I have washed your blood from my hands I have cast my lot with the Romans we pulled your temples down we sold you to the nearest merchant he hung a sing around your neck advertising your price how much for a piece of leg how much for a sniff of her tail a walk in the park the demons speak of your worthiness not wanting to speak bad of the dead all of your lovers lined up to cry by your body I was surprised how well they stitched you together the steel wheels did so much damage cutting you in two snidely whiplash would have been proud of my work the knots were tied with such love I was making a sacrifice to the gods of industry feeding the fires of the locomotive she is posting her outfits separately the first time her legs have been aired out in weeks she emphasizes a life of passion go to work mow the lawn feed the children marginalized through the mundane doing those things that have to be done running from the Republicans as they shout at you over the television screen counting the heads sitting in the church pews changing the spare tire a miserable creature fate leads me to conclusions ad hoc conclusions an island I never heard of before innocent goats and their collective sleep the outstretched hands of the melancholy priest thinking about the words he has put down on the page their resonance to his life in this world and the next cutting the tall grass in large broad strokes watching the clouds for a sign an indication for the direction of fate how it will influence the totality of our misunderstandings I thought about you and my thoughts turned out to be wrong you didn’t fit my little definition of the world you showed me that I need a bigger definition in order to contain you there is this possessive tendency again the desire to own something to possess something or someone is this capitalism or is this patriarchy telling them to get in line with the rain and the loneliness they want to be just like you to smell like you to talk like you to walk among the

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