Saturday, March 28, 2009

i'm not trying to spout something profound. this is just the way it is now.

like the little girl in the movie
with the dried flowers in her mouth
pulling her hair and screaming
and holding hands
and zoning out
and it's okay
because we accept you.
we're all accepting here.
all accepting here.
accepting here.

i'm not writing for you.
i don't know why i'm writing.

never been more gone.
gone, gone, gone.
get used to the feeling, kid.
get used to this.
i'm no longer using metaphors.
my life is late.

sorry, mom. sorry, god.