03-24-07

While I am here…

Here I am stuck in this dirty little town with trees falling away, towed under with ignorance and greed. They treat the people the way they treat the trees and all the children here are mad and lost, running around in philosophical crisis trying to find a self amongst the lost. They cannot be held, cannot be tied down even with friendship, The few who break free become outcasts even to their parents, who turn on them like mother rabbits to devour their young–wretched awash in the scent of human. Two years I’ve spent bouncing amongst the dead, deciphering the hieroglyphics of youth smeared vermillion crusting at the edges of their perception. Beyond that, a denial which will not focus in our peripheral. I’ve sat for two years and, unable to find analysis beyond the self and creativity beyond elitism, began to watch the way the two bounced off each other and swirled in hypocrisy, casting rays of sunlight and madness into thick glares across my vision. Two years and “enough”…she screams it into the open chasm and silence falls like a stage curtain. Eyes closed and smeared with great sweeping blind spots that take the form of Christ. The lose of sight has become a miracle, an act of martyrdom. You are not a martyr, you laugh to yourself. Two years and back to the beginning with you? Hardly, you know this already… You are not a martyr. But the words are not meant for you. You cannot save them but you can escape. “You are not a martyr.” And the words came echoing back…”enough”.