It was a really random party. I didn't know anyone and there was a lot of drama through out the night. But it ended up being a pretty good time. With a beat mixer, hands taped to 40's and cartoons at 4am, we did alright.
So I've been hanging out down by the train's depot. No, I don't ride.I just sit and watch the people there. And they remind me of wind up cars in motion. The way they spin and turn and jockey for positions. And I want to scream out that it all is nonsense. All your life's one track, can't they see it's pointless? But just then, my knees give under me. My head feels weak and suddenly it's clear to see it's not them but me, who has lost my self-identity. As I hide behind these books I read, while scribbling my poetry, like art could save a wretch like me, with some ideal ideology that no one could hope to achieve. And I am never real; it is just a sketch in me. And everything I made is trite and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time.
The last few months I have been living with this couple. Yeah, you know, the kind who buy everything in doubles. They fit together, like a puzzle. And I love their love and I am thankful that someone actually receives the prize that was promisedby all those fairy tales that drugged us. And they still do me. I'm sick, lonely, no laurel tree, just green envy. Will my number come up eventually? Like Love's some kind of lottery, where you scratch and seewhat's underneath. It's "Sorry", just one cherry, or "Play Again. "Get lucky."
I thought they would do me some good, because I never sleep.
But now I can't tell the difference between what I've been dreaming and whats real. Its like some one went into my head, put a bunch of situations in them, and scrambled it all together. I woke up yesterday (I think), wondering if had been at a party, got drunk, and been drugged. But then I really sat down, thought about it, and it didn't add up. Still, I don't know where I've been the past couple of days... I wish some one would tell me
SENTIMENTAL/AMATEUR/FILM ONLY.
I am interested in exploring the line between adolescent curiosity and juvenility.
badvalleys@hotmail.ca for any qeustions. yeye