Post by artolmaeus on Apr 24, 2022 23:43:00 GMT -6
can never take comfort in what could have been
nor find solace in what never was
or somehow balance what should have been
but to always err, to always fall
like the casted from Heaven or Icarus's plunge
for once pride can be the wall
resistance to any and all
somehow to comisserate and contemplate
some nervous old man on the stage
some young man that never left his prison
some lover who never really got to let loose
but was rather loose with his letting
more reminiscening without forgetting
even more for what might have been
somewhere in the unwashed laundry
remnants of the sweat endured in the bearing
broke down in the air
the musk of one lonely Hart
what drives the car is more than a hand
or presses heavily with a foot
consider all the forest for but a handful of soot
blinded by the night
wash the shit from my hair, wash the shit off my face
clean it from my ears from my neck
and take the barnacles off the shoulders
when the head is out of the ass
it is better air to breath
time is nothing to grieve
for what is owned, what possessed more than nothing
like an octopus building a garden
this ride is not by choice, round and round
up and down, stalled in traffic
or merely idling the moments away
but to run, or to hide
is all but left, to fully drive
wherever to go, it is always here, here just here
a field of blooming tulips soon leaves the wind
a barren field, if but for a moment to see
the color, or to be the light, or to be the bloom
to fall, to fall, everyone and all
the alibi is always some sort of traffic
but the choice is to stall
run, run, run through the grass
through the sun in the rain
for all that it is
never complain
sometimes, never say a goddamned thing
but to be something that never was
is to be something now
the ride will end, it is just a ride
put your head outside the window
catch a bug catch catch catch
no worms for the chicken
unless they do scratch
