Oh how well I overdo things, with such chalkmarked style...
I returned from France, over two years ago now, and scooped up a handful of monochrome chalk and conte and drew myself a road, a racetrack for footpads and cavaliers mounted on seething horses.
I drew myself so many roads, and then I drew myself lists and lines and ways to choose between them.
Occasionally I stopped to flatten the grass with a hip and shoulderblade, back arched in confusion.
Occasionally, I romped well off into another pasture entirely, fucked a few stallions and raced back in time to catch up with the runners.
And somewhere amongst all those roads, I lost the time to write. I picked up weight lifting, this weekend was 6 hours of Ninjitsu one, all tumbling and blocking and bruising and controlled kicking. And sit ups. So many sit ups. I tried to remember juggling and origami and in all of that
I haven't published a thing
I haven't published in so long
Becasue I haven't been trying, so obsessed with career and career and car and bills and insurance this and spruce up appartment that and cryptography and motorcycle lessons and gaming and EverCrack and enough beer to drown an entire army of rednecks in and I haven't forgotten a single hug
But I've forgotten how to write.
So I wrote about the last 24 hours. I tried to write poetry. I ended up with this:
(Justifying you)
Tremulous,
Your lips waver, unstable on my neck and the world shakes with them
It isn't you, it must be the wind trembling
Shaking the passage of time like rotten leaves that nobody saw or cared to scoop up
It's better for the world this way
No artificial groundskeeping
Where the thumping adrenaline is our answer to everything.
Your lips waver, and I watch the the wind play jacks with your brittle bones, and I know
It isn't you
It isn't you
It's the weight of the world shaking.
_____________________________________
A lesson in Tumbling
Your shoulder twists and the universe is upset
Gone tumbling with every sinuous roll
Of a body none so impressive as when
You move
Softly
And quick as the silver
Creeping into your hair
And I know you're not there
Behind your eyes
With every muscle hurled
Your every world
Is tumbling with you
In the tumbling away.
_____________________________________
My own personal Sountrack
I would wear my headphones to my grave
Upgrade the box that I spend my every hour in
False wood marred by heavy black and chrome
And shaking
Shaking
From a low bass growl
And shaking,
Dancing
Just me, and the grubs and the muck that I've raked in
Over so many years
Just me and my headphones
And the low bass growl
Of the million reflected dreams in a more beautiful voice
My soundtrack and I,
Unfettered.