deader

then
everything stopped
and all around
sounds of silence
glistened. heat waves
on cars wiggled
their arms in jest
of things we don't
understand. i,
like everyone,
tried to keep on
my way, but found
i couldn't move.
when my mouth bleeds
everything tastes
like blood: "it gets
everywhere," he
murmured on walls
between lonely
silent sips of
laziness. now
he earns money,
but the circles
scar like purple
tears down the sides
of his nose, and
i say that it
(being money)
simply is not
worth so much life.
someday he might
understand, and
then
it will be quiet:
even movement
shall fall silent
in deference;
for poverty
and wisdom drift
nearby, singing
clear harmony,
hands together
in our city's
old alleyways.




8/6/08 - last year was unbelievably lazy; i never did anything. and now i'm constantly overworked, my mind is quick and i push to get everything done again--but i don't know which i prefer. between the lazy loneliness and the frantic accomplishment there's wisdom somewhere.