THE GREAT ESCAPE I dont remember much of my childhood. My brain is in a constant state of DEFCON alert when I try to think of the place Where i was raised; the people that Formed my view of the world Filtered down through their lack of ambition Or risk Or sense of worldly adventure. My mind guards the gate to how that part Of the world grounded me- Lulling me into its false sense of what I should be And its vision of what I should become. It guards itself from the feelings of being different The feelings of wanting to run to anything exciting Anything bigger Anything more. I dont remember much But What I remember most was the warm Smell of water Collecting in giant areola like tide-pools- Pungent monstrosities Behind the factory that owned The soul of my town I was too young to know I only imagined what the sounds And smells And the brokenback long leathernecked Men that marched in And limped out were making behind the Chimney’d gates. They always smelled of bourbon and small crowded apartments And I was afraid it was contagious Afraid it was waiting On a card with my name on it In a woman that didn’t understand My words My thoughts Or my perversions And I would be found out by the foreman (Coincidently her father) And life would be even more unbearable than It was at 10 Or 12 Which is when I started planning: Suspended, Caught Between Looking for a way out by studying the cell And Not quite knowing yet when to leave. -MICHAELXAVIER
Posted on: Fri, 03 Oct 2014 21:56:52 +0000
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