Something familiar in the deepcode of thought.
The Aural Galaxy
And all of life is treated
Like the sun don’t shine
And the rain cools down the florals
And the trees are the color of three trees you always
Remembered in childhood.
Birch, oak, and rough or hard and restored.
The bar countertop you waited 12 years and snuck only to be ousted and by 16 a month
Committing illegalities.
Why copy the verbose and say you seemed destined from family curse?
But don’t claim the bullshit you imposed -\
And in your own ignorance.
You’ve been lost in antique and legacy.
And vintage clothes is what was wrapped new.
And you still thought that christmas gift was pretty cool.
I waited 15 years for my dad’s Blue Dickies jacket.
While I worked airlines and havocs and harty-tarty
I think you got it wrong.
And someone told you it’s all mine – all that starshine.
And I still smile in darkness while I negate your eyes.
Only to keep pursuing without your strength.
Not back around the bend.
You just sit in the room.
And wait and watch like every other dildo-breath you’ve created.
And wonder why in your own pain and not-of-gain.
Pink-slipped your existence into recreating every little failure.
A monument, a testament.
A funeral of some sort.
To every moment.
Of inadequacy. Of insecurity.
I’m not good-enough because all I come from – is not good enough.
That’s not your origin.
Your blame is waste.
Sit on the couch-surfer.
I pull hours and I own the house and of course, like everyone else.
I blame the elder-squatters.
And I don’t give up.
And I still approach with kindness.
Deficit without respect, yes.
Abandon if you show prejudice.
And I still see your failure, and wonder how I can compliment.
A fit, that looked like you.
Not every other venerable heel, identical.
On the boots you always wanted.
Pink for a girl.
And I told you no snake-skin.
I rather go van.
Than come-away again, and be stuck in your failure.
And you call me distant.
When I wipe away the tears.
When I cleanse your bruised ego.
And the anticipation awaits because the only people showing you empathy –
Are the ones who sold you out.
And you sold the one you loved under a chestnut tree.
The girl made Gin.
And you still lick bootheal.
Acting like the grow on the ocean.
A sea cucumber, isn’t a vegetable.
It’s a volcanic-quake.
And in that explosion, and destruction.
Every kid finds peace and resistaliance, in order to see just how many ways
Those vinegar ratios, can cause an easier peel.
And I shakerato the foam.
And say I’ve never been a barista.
And i took your ass to The Farm.
My, backyard.
And in all your failures, you stick around.
And I wonder if I’m the wrong one.
And do not declare.
Leave or go.
You stay stagnant.
Change-or-not.
I’ve been there.
And retained memory.
Honesty isn’t easy.
I don’t project my failures for a little more attention.
I tell you everything that eats me up inside.
And as I consume the guilt and shame.
And offer blame to myself before anyone else.
It wasn’t before.
It still gets me down.
I remember when the light went out in my eyes.
And yet then, did I receive sound.
A blessing.
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