I'm a wild child
to this day
I can't be contained
Even if you hate me
I rise
A holy Holy Cross day
A pack of boys, games
A vision of future floods
I live here now
The routines are the same and therein lies my order - trailer/cabin/car - I wash my face, I brush my teeth, find a pen and something to write on, I sleep when I can. I kiss my cat, plump the pillow, lip balm and water, I wake when I can. All this means, all it means is that I am making something I can live with out of life. And when I get my own home again, and I will, I will savor and cherish it, impermanent, as much as I savor and cherish this impermanence. Skateboard, basketball, negative space, tips in ziplocks, skin and teeth, driving, camera. It's all smoke and ladders, I want to live forever, but only if I can make you laugh, only if I can read CĂ©line ("Death On The Installment Plan"), pouring walnuts on my face.