Tell me, who am I to question so much?
Why do I look around and feel so out of touch.
See the world out here feel it hard to breathe
They accept at face value yet I cannot believe
I would ask you big world
Why I've misplaced desires
I dread you will respond
each one is a lie
Impossible to fulfill
even when they seem in reach,
Do you just cut us off
when there's nothing left to teach
Who am I to question
tell me why I should fuss
The earth a strange teacher
from birth to dust
God, what am I
that I question everything so much?
Why do I look around and see the rest of the world
accepting so much at face value?
I would ask you
Why have you given me so many desires
that seem impossible to fulfill?
And why,
when they finally seem within reach,
have some of them already lost their excitement?
Have I played a trick on myself,
or is this really the name of the game?
Why should I continue to chase my dreams
and invite you to collaborate?
But I do...
One billion demons
cloud the mind
one climbs over the other
each one famished
their claws and horns a tangle
Like an ants nest in frenzy
crawling over each other
to find my fear center
limbs are exhausted
neurons are sleep starved
the hoard encroaches
There's a burning smell
Images from the worst of nightmares
Projecting into me
swarming
searing and blistering
Their paradise is close
As they breach the arachnoid matter
They come like a galaxy of pestilent bad dreams
Will i just use their wrath and digest them
He convinced his superviser that all was well
A week from that day they would never see him again
Things at the meatworks were going bad for him
His hours were reduced, rumours he was lonely
He changed out of his bloodstained gear
The air and darker days spoke to the onset of winter
Like the beginning of a movie you don't want to watch
He suddenly realized his budget would tighten
He could no longer afford his favorite beer
No longer go to the bar with friends saturday afternoon
Had to ration fuel and junk food
Had to ration anger at vegetarians
He gulped watered down coffee
sipped depression
Rewinding one's trajectory
A specific torture
Empty highway after clocking out
Scattered leftovers from morning's snow
The heart doesn't beat it farts
short lifeless farts
Too many feelings to digest
He pulls into his small rundown cabin
Wood rotting under the white ten year old paint
He turns the key in swift motion
heart farting like pre-diarrea squirts
He turns on the two bar
dives into his sleeping bag
and bathes himself in screenlight
Useless, hopeless consumed by his own darkness
The lonliness so foreign to his dwindling highschool self
It was only two years ago in Edmonton so optimistic
Now friendless and just on broke in Brooks
Stop running he said
Just take a rest here you are exhausted
-Who are you talking to, the old man by the baitshop asked.
Oh I was just...
Calm your head, life is going to test you
Nothing is ever set
Boy it groans, tis a mess
Just slow down mate, I feel sickened by the rush
Stop running right here
it makes no difference
-Son are you in trouble? The old man asked again.
I met eyes but words couldn't break the membrane
Take it easy here. Why are you still running.
Noone cares. It's a quick life then you die.
I looked back at the hills behind.
My voice opened up like a yodel
"You have a fucking quote for everything"
Silence was the response and the old man from the baitshop walked off.
Is all of this effort really necessary?
Would you like to tell me these are the obsessions that age us
That fade our animo and vitality, wear us out
I dig you up and I hold your skull up
and scream inside to make you listen
Pentrate that thick bone so that you might get an inkling
"I must build and prosper"
Instead of silence I can hear you laughing then chuckling
Not the sickly on that would have you in a coughing fit
But the healthy one that went on for far too long
As if the notion I could out do you was a joke
Slow down sun
Stop running...
Moored not far from the abode
The ship would depart for england that afternoon
Something they were convinced was important
Raising flags and giving speeches
Would I be on that ship
Or left back here at port
loitering around beachfront shops
purposeless and lost
No I'd be stuck in the bungalow
writing words forming roots
That traveled like the ship
Underground mycorrhiza for my creativity
The smell of salt and confusion
The pen runs dry of ink
The islands and inlets that inspired me
remain unmentioned
pieces of the land and people I wanted to grace
In an empty state stuck on this thin chunk of coast
We can all pretend
Awkardness is avoided like this
The partner meets the desire
They converse there dockside
Desire wants to throw a curveball
Asking what the other would do for a hungry child
Perfect humanitarian responses and on time
There was recognition
Almost a clang of rapport
Or so the heart of the man in the middle wished
On the dock there, congratulating each other
Kind souls in theory and throwaway conversation
Find a way to relate for my sake
common ground around the elephant
crushing dock planks
push smiles, try eyecontact
The two of you don't have to be in the same room
The ocean reflects the sun but storms are coming soon
The two of are welcome to trade illusions
Before the typhoon
