a chance of scattered honesty

john andersen’s mauseleum provided shelter and although it never really rained today the storm made its presence known like an impotent young man who just wants to fuck

my headphones alternate between the smiths and this american life, sitting in greenwood cemetery—waiting for godot

the storm came and went without doing much the temperature drops dark sky and clouds threaten but never produce, like the way i can never be fully honest with my family. each opportunity for strength blows over and it’s easy to see why the statue in the storm bothers me.

i long for lightning lit liberty let the rain fall fall fall on me until i’m soaked in the truth of what’s really going on here. cause i don’t know how much longer i can hide from myself… i have worked for years to exorcise demons that are easily revived by one week with my grandmother.  (i’m tired of answering questions about marriage or my lack thereof, explaining how i make a meal with absolutely no animal products, and i certainly can’t make any more excuses for why i don’t care that marshals is selling panties 5 for $20.)

i want it to rain so fucking hard that it matches the downpour in my heart spilling over into this pen my mind drowns in each sidewalk i follow and mostly i just want to scream

i want to change the world but it just keeps right on changing me baby see i try too hard
try so hard to make this thing mine that reality is falling by the wayside i escape into books and there’s nothing quite like the way you can see a stranger in his writing

i have pushed the limits of time lengths passed in solitude days spent waiting spelling out self in black ink lines that only connect to make things more efficient i wonder why she comes back to me more than i do

stand up and walk away from this graveyard sun shining but one block and i’m covered head to toe in rain drops that have been falling for years they followed me from kentucky to ohio now new york city is choking on the tears of my past