life as i see it (part two)

Surly expression is a heart beat mode
Angry objections and
Red lips pressed together laughing
My eyebrows are furrowed
Tracing the lines that destiny may dictate
Running my fingers along forks in the road
One, two people will leave a lasting impression
One, two people
Will change your outlook on life
Murky waters mirror red faces and places that flourish in the lack of humanity
Murky waters look me in the eye
Why? She wonders why….
Why do you wake up every morning?
I rise to experience the fresh, raw morning,
To taste the warm, tangerine sunrise
I rise to milk my poet’s license
And to live the grunge of day to day agony and joy
I rise to look upon the stars and to horde those moments
Middle aged palm trees sway morosely, they cannot lie about age-
Their rings tell truth to all.
….But my body has no rings
…And so I lie.
Truth is relative and irrelevant
And so I return, each night,
To the dreamy abode inside my head
My house is not my home
And my family is dead
To me
The murky waters of my mind reflect the drudge and
ugly brown gray of the industrial world
the scarlet red of war and the deep black of poverty and disease
the juices of my stomach oxidize with the times
oh for the days of poetic tumbling and sweet loving nothings
for the days when valentines day wasn’t saccharine
and when pink was pretty and not excessive
I want to paint my nails again
I want to eat ice cream and not feel decadent
I want!
I WANT!
Surfer babe gadgets and renaissance style hair ribbons
Yellow scarves and miss sixty minis
Oh for commercialistic heaven!
My god above, target tank tops!
Place your hand in mine (palm side up)
You can never be too sure about pulse…
Living is not possessing.
Tracing the lines that may dictate destiny…
Running my fingers along forks in the road…
Surly expression is a heart beat mode
Skip to the end…read the part of the story that isn’t hideous and heart breaking
Flip to the last page, ignore the details, the ugliness
Glance at the conclusion, the period at the end of lengths of striving
That may or may not be perfection.
Angry objections and
Red lips pressed together laughing-
You were never a proponent of truth