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Big Eye
Destructure. Formattenuated. Poorganization. Plotting it out. Conspiracies. And BEES. Everything points to point A pointing the finger at point B. The shortest distance between two points? The bastards burn the trees. It doesn’t clockwork all the way. No matter what you try to say. And you don’t know. You wouldn’t know. You weren’t there. You didn’t hear them scratching at the foot of our bedless floorman. Clawing at our blankets and hee-hee-hissing our name. Raaandom. Raaandom. We won’t hurt you. But we knew better. Sweat, got wetter. We know better. Too afraid. To sleep. Do you know what wide-awake is not-so like? We drink, not so much as to get drunk as to not remember anything. Self-induced lullabies. Memories are the pain. What is wrong with us is we used to not so be this way. Afraid. Of what? And who? And why? Since when?
We are fierce and now is the time but the words come out, spill out, drill out and we can’t get out, we can’t get out. No one believes us and hates us and maybe we are but OK computer we just want to be alone in the dark with that drink and it’s starting again, it’s starting again…
Put your peace in an origami box. And the ghosts are back again. Waiting to get us, out of their minds to get us. And we’re sick of screaming sick of seeing things that aren’t quite there. So far out we can never return. Can’t think straight, can’t think straight. Dried-up sponge cake soaked in glue. Yeah, yeah, yeah. We know, we know…the world is too. And they always figure it out, always.
So why’d we do it? Why’d we do it?
Wouldn’t you?
WOULDN’T you.
Posted by Invisibleye in: Experiences, Poetry 
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13 July, 2010 