"Don't fret precious I'm here, step away from the window and go back to sleep.
Lay your head down child. I won't let the boogeymen come. Count their bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums. Pay no mind to the rabble. Pay no mind to the rabble.
Head down, go to sleep to the rhythm of the war drums.
Pay no mind what other voices say. They don't care about you, like I do, (like I do.) Safe from pain, and truth, and choice, and other poison devils, see, they don't give a fuck about you, like I do.
Just stay with me, safe and ignorant. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. I'll be the one to protect you from your enemies and all your demons. I'll be the one to protect you from a will to survive and a voice of reason. I'll be the one to protect you from your enemies and your choices son. They're one and the same.
I must isolate you. Isolate and save you from yourself.
Stay with me, safe and ignorant. Just stay with me. I'll hold you and protect you from the other ones.
The evil ones, don't love you son. Go back to sleep."
* * * * *
I miss the tall green grass turned brown full of grasshoppers as mule deer stare silently stoic on the rise above the gravel road for running in the middle of nowhere soon too soon turned into "Suburbia" with fake trees and sod lawns meticulously watered each night like robbers-stealing-gold-from-the-only-stagecoach-through-these-parts out of the river that pulls all the silt from the fires of last summer down to the ocean if not for the hydroelectric dams.
I miss sitting in one spot for hours and moving the world beneath wheels while the dreams of sessions in isolation booths spill their woven magic into my state of staring and moon craters and sand blasting and cigarette smoke for miles.
I miss lack of hope.
I miss that the most.
Lay your head down child. I won't let the boogeymen come. Count their bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums. Pay no mind to the rabble. Pay no mind to the rabble.
Head down, go to sleep to the rhythm of the war drums.
Pay no mind what other voices say. They don't care about you, like I do, (like I do.) Safe from pain, and truth, and choice, and other poison devils, see, they don't give a fuck about you, like I do.
Just stay with me, safe and ignorant. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. I'll be the one to protect you from your enemies and all your demons. I'll be the one to protect you from a will to survive and a voice of reason. I'll be the one to protect you from your enemies and your choices son. They're one and the same.
I must isolate you. Isolate and save you from yourself.
Stay with me, safe and ignorant. Just stay with me. I'll hold you and protect you from the other ones.
The evil ones, don't love you son. Go back to sleep."
* * * * *
I miss the tall green grass turned brown full of grasshoppers as mule deer stare silently stoic on the rise above the gravel road for running in the middle of nowhere soon too soon turned into "Suburbia" with fake trees and sod lawns meticulously watered each night like robbers-stealing-gold-from-the-only-stagecoach-through-these-parts out of the river that pulls all the silt from the fires of last summer down to the ocean if not for the hydroelectric dams.
I miss sitting in one spot for hours and moving the world beneath wheels while the dreams of sessions in isolation booths spill their woven magic into my state of staring and moon craters and sand blasting and cigarette smoke for miles.
I miss lack of hope.
I miss that the most.
2 comments:
I miss living in a city with at least 2,000 Jewish doctors and 1/2 single and my age.
I miss the life of NYC.
Just sayin'...
I write like this sometimes. Take a first line and then work off of that for an idea and then move to the next idea but use the same first line. For example, "As I sit here and smoke my last cigarette," (which I got from a guy in Colorado) or "He lives on the side of a hill."
It's a good writing exercise, and one that I seem to be fond of.
Post a Comment