needle in the rough, diamond in the haystack

it's moments like this, alone, all in one, that i think of the mismatched letters you gave to me so soundly; about this cowboy sunset and black-flower bed, your riddles and ink pouring out through the teeth on the floor... mouth full of matches, you say? well, burn burn burn like roman candles exploding like stars across the night sky, and me, trailing behind, riding the moon like a horse into the desert horizon. grow your hair long, see it shine in the morning sun, and tattoo your hands with memories of lost smiles and forged notes; and as the truth sets in and you find her hair on your jacket don't get it twisted, son, you will miss your match when it's all said and done, cause these poems, these mind-vomit characters that bully my brain and grind my bones inside my skin, they aren't the lie i once let myself live in. i can't swivel my chair and look the other way. it's not right. it's not natural. it's not fair. the wild in my eyes refuse to let the silence set like gelatin in my skull, making little shapes for the children to eat on this playdate of life. i don't believe you, and even if i never see you again, i won't believe you for the rest of my life. it's not that i'm dumb. or that i'm playing dumb, or that naivety is a trait i take to heart... no one can make that shit up. the shit you wrote me. how you looked at me. your skin on mine.

it simply wasn't a lie.

so gild your golden words. i'll eat mine when i get hungry enough. until then, time is being bode underfoot, under the setting sun, under the precipice of success and the edge of this cliff... i will believe what you never said to me more than i ever will what you did.

this just won't be the end of the story. we still have to step through those swinging doors in italy. we still have to drink 40s in the park. and we still have to ride off into the night, laughing at the ones who will never understand.

k.