Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Don't play with matches

Pulled up to my child hood house
Pulled up in a black caddy with a door mouse
I want to retreat but he squeaks & from the drivers seat I fall out
Many mad manic menacing memories moments I just don't care to talk about
No tire swings, just wooden paddles stings, fist of famine, little man don't you dare pout
I goto the trunk tears take to the powers of gravity & for a quick moment theres some doubt
On my shoulder sucrries my little door mouse
Lightly singing something about

"Fire meets Fear & even the hardest memories burn"

Keys in the trunk I twist, I turn, the bright red can in my trunk shouts...

"FREEDOM!!!...I'll take you to a good nights sleep. Just pick me up, pour me out, and soon you'll see, gasoline, just may help to ease, the brutal stinging memories of your pre-teens."

Hand on can headed for the house
A twisted relationship this loop has long loved me like an abusive spouse
Kick in the door & with no delay I douse
The walls, tables, chairs, and an L shaped couch
I douse
A corner where my ass once glowed a 100 different colors
I douse
Where my parents use to sleep
Where we all use to eat
My bedroom where I use to get beat & locked up for weeks like a piece of meat
I douse
It all till my can is empty
& I hear my white little friend say "Leave the rest to me"
Heavy my chest starts to heave
I can smell smoke & feel heat as I begin to leave
What's left will be
Ashes of adolescent memories
A charcoal filled snow globe of destiny
I stagger out with a cough & a weez
In the distance I can hear sirens singing to me

"Take haste, take heed, unless you hope to catch a felony."

Out from the house
Comes my smokey little mouse
I stare at flames licking a crystal clear night sky
From inside that old house I hear the faint cry
Of a kid I thought would never die
Just me my mouse & I
Hop into my ride
& drive
Into a secluded scene of resolution
Out of the city past the burbs past the pollution
This caddy has wings & rides fast & high off resolution
Truth is
I've never been much of a dreamer
or a make believer
Just a volatile child a screamer
Who holds hopeful that the things he's seen will make him a mighty redeemer
Cutting cross state lines into Missouri to see her
but she won't be there it was all theater
Usually is
but gone finally is the boy the child the kid
Driving towards his fresh start is a man burning to live

1 comment:

  1. Wow, that's fuckin HARDCORE!!!, i loooooooooove it!!!!!!!!