Actuality, Brutality, and Causality

Fri, 02/17/2017 - 01:16 -- v_mag

Aloft in the Eaton Canyon air, my arms wave goodbye

to the commercial airplane flying away.

 

Born to break by the corruption of mankind,

my innocent laughter then echoes below.

 

Craving profound connections,

I climb on.

 

Doomed to lose their lovers,

the hikers continue to pass me by.

 

Echoes

still reign supreme in these woods.

 

Finally,

I decide to dance.

 

Grey birds with three heads sing

to me.

 

Hapless hikers

decide to stop and watch me.

 

I never noticed the way their chins twitch

when they lie.

 

Jars of water are thrown

to me.

 

Keenly

I drink.

 

Lousy hikers

gave me moonshine.

 

Morbid thoughts from the hooch

flow through my head.

 

Nobody can see me this way, so I leave

the dancing scene.

 

On the condition that I never look back,

the birds follow me.

 

Pretty people from my past

gain momentum.

 

Questions are yelled at me, but I promised the birds

I would not look back.

 

Running into the present moment,

I no longer suffer.

 

Stars begin to poke

through the darkening sky.

 

Tears

dry.

 

Universal silence

overshadows the mass.

 

Vast understanding

sets in.

 

Willow trees

now surround me.

 

Xanax pills from my pockets

are thrown into the dirt.

 

Yellow bugs

eat them.

 

Zealot yells

are heard             in the distance.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Our world

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