How Fast Exactly Does the Bull Run?

December 7, 2009
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I’ve seen so many hands strum six strings as if they were lungs.
Seen your cosmic arrogance wrap around and beat me like a drum.
Through a window in a shelter that feeds you everything you want.
Everything but the drugs, everything but the drugs.
But those eyes were not mine to be looking through, you know.
Your head was heavy like a heart that is colder than snow.
The second you come near I will let go; I am better now, I let go.
Don’t take away from this the things you would if I were honest.
I think of you every time I breathe, every time I sleep, when I speak.
It’s just that you’ve become a voice, a ghost that walks behind me.
I love the idea of incorporating you in every story, sweet or gory.
In my dreams you still stand before me, you stand before me.
But imagination always has its charm of shoving you away.
Whether it be an asteroid or the haunting chance that I wake.
Until I cannot remember if you ever existed in the first place.
And I think of you with grace, I always think of you with grace.
My invention that I crafted for words (forwards, four words) on a page.

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Milo! said...
Mar. 13, 2010 at 8:22 am
I really love this. I really like how everyone can relate to this. I hope you keep writing, because this is great. You should check out some of my stuff. I think you would like it.
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