I didn’t want to
believe in you. I hate us. Thrust into subliminal(s). A grand epiphany, walking
deer alley, headed into coyote valley; by dance of its grace, by trillions in
future lies, affected by inner woes; to amuse self, to love self, nothing
greater than I imagine in you. I keep scratching, nerves wailing, so great the
affectation—some damn dream, so make-believe, taking palms to dirt and
wheezing. No remorse is a lie, no regrets, knowing no other way to meet you, I passed
through creeks. So morose, so happy, a dreaded contradiction. The gambler, the
addict, the false bravado—to laugh at a mirror, true un-reflection, standing in
ill-repute. We were busy with bullshit, some naïve challenge, holding
simplicity in contempt; talking to ourselves, dealing on another level,
something we could never divulge. Bloody crime, needy me, negligent you; sewn
into risks, forests bleeding, a tremendous demon—the battle to live, to need
one, maybe two, able to compete, able to chance the rivers.
