Thursday, June 3, 2010

tomorrow you wake up and there's a ladder your eyes climb straight down without even trying;
you're not sure why, but it feels like the bottom's been waiting like a starting line.

just a few steps in there's a faded green sign that seems to imply a sense of direction,
your parent's noses side-by-side, facing forward,
and in it's reflection there isn't so much a list,
as a set,
of three things:

I bet you,

the perpetual lost voice
the growing cherry eyes
the you who learned how not to try

will never find out why.

chiseled it's way through wet amino chains and
found itself set conspicuously aside whatever it is
that's been making your decisions as of late.

"I found me", you dream to yourself.

"The first time you get lost, you are almost there", I dream back.

Tomorrow you wake up and remember you can do anything.


  1. I really love this. But I also pretty much like anything that employs themes of romantic surreality being a true source of wisdom.

  2. When I am feeling romantically surreal, I am both
    a little more than misplaced,
    and a little less than unlucky.

    I love you for loving this.