December 26, 2007 - Wednesday
A bittersweet love for the floor,
seeing the cold hard rusty nail taken out by the hammer my father built,
In the hut my ancestors restored,
under the same lease, the government wants.
that as I look up to see you open the door,
and light shines in, and my eyes get used to,
though the dust never settles.
It's like hovering my suprise over your smile, and
for a second, it makes me the most unintentional mistake I could ever be.
I was fading there for weeks before you came in and took me.
I was eating the same bread, the same glass, the same unopened doors, the same struggle to keep myself tied to a wall so I would not bend and fall to the chemical infested ground.
I could not see outside the windows for the love of god,
because I spent too much time tying,
myself to the roof
I spent too much time doing that of which I could not live without!
Looking down
And the nitrogen oxide air pollutants that the rain
Never ever washes out.....
These cause a distorted view (only through the sides of my own eyes that is)
People would come in and visit, but it was all very unrelaxed,
and the conversation
was grossly lax.
To me it seemed the fishnet device fell on me......
So I finally fell to floor, onlookers could only gasp!
Drinking that which they could not pick up.
Soaking the muck from their shoes.
Those million dollar shoes.
leaving, they went.
I had only decided.
only, that's it,.... "only"
to see them go
but leaving for you is loving me isn't it?
making my masts a curling tumble
though i see no water to push me aside
i'm a tangled....
but a mess is clean when it's well polished
sort of like prison sex
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