TOUCHMEDONOTTOUCHMEIAMALIVE

Monday, June 1, 2009

It's been a long time... long time now. The glitter and glitz is gone. Long shattered are the dreams of a foreign sailor, and still cut short are the very things that put him to sea. A new breed comes and a new breed goes. Call it a ritual, call it whatever you will. I'll call it home and hell and breathing and everything that ever was. My bed has been empty for weeks, but only for the shortest of while. My love will return, and yet every moment is searing with her gone. The air is dryer. Hotter. A flag waves sullenly in the background and I can't help but wonder of the tales it could scream. That lost loves and destroyed men it could tell of. One could only imagine, and so that's what I do. I imagine a man with a rifle and a torn about family. And another man, bent to his knees. Begging for his life. For forgiveness. I imagine a woman constantly stood up by her suitor, while he gallivants around town with other unsuspecting women. I imagine me, bleeding in an ally. Imagination goes out the window. Fuck what you can dream if lusting ever becomes too bearable. This is not for me, and for naught I will destroy it all. In my waking path new buildings will rise and we will continue a cycle we a forced to quit.