Air passes by the
bristles along the walls of my lungs,
As I sit in bed and
listen to acoustic voices and guitars.
I see the dim light of
my lamp,
And all the objects
that it’s reflecting light off of.
As far as smelling
goes,
It’s the tree that
stands,
Outside my window.
I access my memories
like an ATM.
And all my hairs stand
on their toes.
Stone cold Spanish
seekers climb through caves of time,
As I lay face down and
my cheeks taste grass.
God is forgiving me for
the food I have stolen,
I pray.
Ten
dollars in my pocket and a rugged personality;
I
spend 80% of the money I have on paint supplies.
Dark
blues and gold find smiles on the faces of depressed;
Blood
and silver fly through clouds and lightning.
I
jumped in anticipation of Joy.
In
the cave I consider myself.
Echoes
became something other than nothing,
Discovering
the rhythm of a soul is as simple as pots and pans.
I
fell off of the wooden roller coaster.
My
sorrow can be described as the chewing of nails.
Sometime
I’d like to circle around,
But
life isn’t that way is it?
I
hide under the sheets but really I’m performing, foreshadowing, entertaining,
The
audience eager to smell the inside of my grandmother’s home.
The
adventure I’m on when I look at my grandfather’s photo of the Appalachian,
Reminds
me,
Of
the difference between a duck,
And
the tears form in my eyes,
As a
bug crawls up my notebook.
That
bug is my father.
Another
one follows the first one.
Water
washes away every dust and dirt,
Inside
and outside my body.
I
feel refreshed and alive, beyond my senses,
As I
stare at the light reflected off of my water bottle,
And
as I breathe,
My
memory offers the picture of my niece,
Playing
alone in the grass fields of Seattle,
And
how I made that my Cover photo,
And
how I water-colored it too,
But
I couldn't paint my niece,
So
she looked like a ghost.
I
tied my tie –
The
cloth comforted my cackling callouses.
I
picked up my guitar;
The
damn thing bruised my hands.
I
find some meaning,
Behind
and in front of,
The
rivers of emotions,
And
the deep breaths.
