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This poem is not about somebody on this board
Three lines on this paper, drawn on this page
All point away from me, My heart
is cased in broken mirror pieces
Metaphorically
Your hand is not the same size as man
And when I drive my car
I shift into third gear
Mastefully, and my knuckles
Brush the side of your thigh
I draw my picture, on the same piece of paper
And I only use straight lines
And I only use three
And they all point away from me.
I best leave it folded in the glove compartment
Of your car
Instead
The ghost of a witch, haunted the road
That ran behind my old house
But Im not that scared
Most of the time
Maybe when I die
The sky will be white
And maybe this world
Will be here forever
The same themes trouble me A lot of the time
Childhood and hauntings, scary old witch
Eyes that are on fire, hands that are claws
That will tear and tear and screech and howl
I am not afraid
Most of the time, I know in myself
That I will probably never be like
My mother has ended up, there's something
In all of us that holds
Some kind of balance
And Ive never really felt
The same as she did, when the world crumpled
I was just sliding through these streets
Sliding through this room
Drinking too much, and vaguely unhappy
Ive seen happy summer days
When the sun was like an embrace
And all of my toy cars
Are lined up in three lines
And they all point away from me.
There's this girl that I know
I see her around, every other week
She hates her boyfriend, and she told me so
Sometimes she cries
And sometimes she sits on her knee's
And she told she hates him
And she told me she loves him
I dont believe in love these days
It isnt really ideal, but what can one do
But follow the path that you find
Keep your eyes to the ground
The sky is too open and frightening
Anyway.
Anyway.
Anyway
__________________
"Do not tell lies, and do not do what you hate,
for all things are plain in the sight of Heaven. For nothing
hidden will not become manifest, and nothing covered will remain
without being uncovered."
The Gospel of Thomas
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