In the remainders. Weak diaphragms sputter out the moments in sour ballads more irony than truth. Could we separate them. The equation. In the distance between traffic lights. The chirp of lazy brakes. For miles we can't recall. Gowns off the rack wear our dubious proms. In dances we never shared. Songs as strange then as they are now.
You're my savior. And my Satan. You're the cacophony that proves there is music. I wish I could still hear. The dead things that made us alive.
The future in its calm restraints. Looking forward to the whip. Bad dogs in good cages. Worshipping the lock. Some oft repeated porno I can't learn to love.
The roots of the trees arguing with sidewalk. Winning. Despite where we step. The old man crying into his wine glass. I've been everywhere. And no place.
I've loved every woman I possibly could.
And they're all the same.
Monday
10/01/2007 01:24:00 AM
Sad Labels:
friends
,
lovers
,
manic
,
philosophy
i don't understand some of your stuff, you are on a different plane of thought altogether! i'm trying to understand your poems, maybe someday i will :)
N
am not really trying to be hard to understand so much as to say the same old thing in a different way.
i think if you sit back and don't think too hard on it the imagery is pretty straightforward. maybe it's one of those it's so obvious you can't see it sorta things.
the beginning of first paragraph is just about chessy love songs that you hate yourself for liking and hate the reasons inside you that make you like them. at the end it's more alluding to how we 'get over it' and it seems so strange to have ever felt that way. strange and yet, familiar/comforting.
maybe that'll get you started on understanding. :-)
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