12/2/08

Andrew Jackson was an asshole and Civil Rights came decades late. My music intellect isn't as knowledgeable as I'd like it to be, but I'll still sing along to the thumping beat in the background that vibrates where i sit. Even with my eyes closed, I'll know it's you that I'm feeling. Sudden flashing moments induce my mind in images of the past. Your name in bold letters written across my mind. I'm perfectly content yet instantly reversed. All the feeling left are numb. Late night blabbering, I'm so tired and I'm afraid to accidentally vocalize my tragic dreams. Disrupting trot into my doorway stretches out a paper with names that aren't mine. The doorway is not mine, in a room with bodies that aren't motionless. Shaking feet are folded 'borders'. "It's disturbing how little history we know." Years of repetition, although it's never the same; extended strangers know his ways. I'm speaking of two different people-one isn't related. Meridian imagination, stories to tell. It's been a while and I'm thinking about our future. "We had to be integrated." Controversy. Greedy parents, greedy ex's. Perfect word. Don't we all drop out of something? "Taste this, it's safe." Picking up floating words here and there. I haven't decided whether my mind is permanent or just stuck. Your confusion set in long ago and you re-read sentences over, more slowly, I'm sure.

1997, died at a tree.

I forgot why i wrote that, but in the moment I'm sure it was meaningful.