Oct. 27, 2017

We Live Life For Disaster

How did we-

oh how did we...
it's like nothing ever stopped

but who-

who would expect any other wise way
of proving our existence through

the music of the music

meandering melodies

doors always open
because
we can’t keep track of
the frivilous shit

keys
cards
fire
water
faith-
and;

reason.

you live on my edge
you say it
charmed
confounded-
you found.

melodic melancholy mondays
trancing tuesdays
wasted wednesday
TEQKILLYA THURSDAYS!
forgettingfridaaay
snor(e)thissaturday

snoozing on sunday…
avoiding the procrastination
that beholds us

no, not you & i-
us,
it’s always been-

decompress
tanks and disaster

in the corner,
a mess to be made
looking into the future–

the mirror
and the themes of-
the walls

un-
certainity.

well, certainly-
a water spout to prove me right
cherry garcia

oh-all that…the. the.
the real money ice cream

my eyes watering, 
abrupt my laughter
and,
your dad said it best:

you never giggled before you met me.

the red
strokes shirts
worn wearily

trancing tuesday

my novel abode
a cave

glisten
glitter
gazing

home in a hazy hazel daze
the comfort of
the green
the brown

and in the sunshine specks of golden glimmer
hazel hazy hectic harmony

it is how
you know to hear me
not to look for me

impossible to find
the night of infinite showers

a cave of dust, dirt, deteriorating what was is was is is is is
a cave of similar kin; however, nothing of the like;

reckless resposibility
in a nutshell-
we hate to love to say it

a venn diagram
a split in the world 
we don’t understand

don’t realize enough 
to understand 

gamma raise

you answer 
swift,
sweet.
subtle-

spark.

only me
that mirror
you can see

hazel in black
black in hazel

that golden shimmer
illuminating under clear skies
reflected in the bioluminescense 

lost in color,
you-

you know not to look for me
you’re the one who learned
to never look for me-
you know you’ll hear me

spark me
the flame of that lighter
no safety

even when my mind struck lightning
wind can blow out your fire

but, i’m following the wind
feeling your fire-
to feel your fire

and you know never to look for me
you can hear me when you need to

the jingles
background music
the punchline

the cliche three beats of that exhausted drum