vivaennui

This blue orb spinning Pushed out gravitational force so strong Sent it out to the tin cans tied with string The children conspiring Puckered lips of the mailman whistling Morse code. Finally, shot back down to me All the lines and grids and black streaks Careening cars of what sincerity Has forged to bring such words Amidst the wreckage In making sense of this world. We’re left with Sticky rice Lumpy oatmeal What to make from all of this.

Fits of Neurons I'm investing my life in nightmares what never escapes from me. Only dreams and-- I've got the leash in my right hand my vice is in the left. It all annoys the hell out of me obstructing my view can't seem to understand. Betwixt or between these rapid firings. Even the neurotic will sleep maybe snap into a slumber. If I find the mission impossible out of my own fault. I'm tiptoeing over everyone's problems locking my continuity in a vault. Over the molehills they travel swift puzzling the rotation of the Earth. My head is spinning faster than life itself.

Among Crows and Giants If I took out a pen for every wasteful thought I wanted to write by the end of the day, At night it grows ignorance and scuttles away. If I took out a pen every time I wanted to document a worthy emotion, It would have the legs of a giant. I do not know when my complications, Became more than a worry about getting a ride to Mary’s house to play. I do not know when I didn’t have a pen. Most memories that I have are flashes of a shutter, Printed on faded paper. Faded paper and washed out colors, Are the things my memory generates. All I can really tell is these things are neither, Memorably good, or memorably bad. I consist of quilted indifferences, Depicted with a brush consisting of a mere five bristles. I remember seeing crows’ feet around my Dad’s eyes. I knew just what that meant, crows feet. Mary got married and stopped worrying about me being late to play. I was now watching my Dad grow old just as...