Chris Vittorino and anyone else interested, this is a preview from my poetry book... ~ dont ask me when I was born for the date no longer matters the clock that you live by is just a piece of art a way of saying Ill have a new face someday that the old eyes will look out through new holes and see the same sights differently the name someone gave me centuries ago is a meaningless mystery a question with no answer all the places and people blend and twist and fold in on themselves the straight line of progression stubborn subjectivity is mangled and rolled into a ball and tossed like its a game and that is my life thats what Im doing while you live in pleasant predictability so forgive me if Im cold or sometimes laugh when I shouldnt if I break the rules or dont always play nice its because once I was a son and a father and now Im just a number told that I should never travel alone because I have no humanity but that which I take with me that the press of centuries the endless lives watched walking past and deaths that Ive caused or witnessed in the name of good and the people that I love will turn my hearts cold if I havent someone to warm them that the wars are still being fought in my soul that Ill just stop caring without someone to do that for me but you know that every smile is echoed somewhere with a tear every laugh is the reflection of heartache that every kiss is because Ive had to say goodbye somewhere else every hug turns another away in an alternate place a new friend here is one lost there and for every angel thats just an angel theres something more sinister around the corner for every crack in a wall theres a door to hell I know the things behind those walls the monsters sometimes real and sometimes I just have to say Im sorry I cant help I cant stop the things fixed and immutable it isnt always something to cover with a band aid kissed and made better sometimes the universe is cruel time cant be twisted the rules cant be bent to our wishes sometimes we cant do what we should or what we would if we could why do you think Im a mad man in a box always running always sorry sometimes joking inappropriately its because I always make it through when the friends and companions get the bruises and the cuts the injuries that dont heal the nightmares and losses they cant regenerate like me theyve got a home to lose and I dont its why Ive got very old eyes in a very young face its because Ive seen them die and had to go back in my box and fly away like nothing happened
Posted on: Mon, 20 Oct 2014 20:01:45 +0000
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