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April 27
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before the
      before, face it,
there were faces indelible,
       the viscosity of
tar in his voice...
 
       tar on his coarse fingers;

like everywhere
        in everything
there was the sacred drunkard illuminating

a way...

when i hid by the bucket and
nettle brushed my shoulder, the poison
was slow;

      (in reality, he
ran his cows over with a tractor and there
the sacredness should have ended;


didn't;
before the before there was gnarled bark
off unidentified trees
            whispering by the river,
rough to the touch

         i would spread out my fingers
fascinated by the splinters


now it is morning and i realize
i have never really seen an ocean
the canyons were nonexistent,
   the bazaars

         barely there impressionistic
space; flawed geometry

there is nothing to leave behind,
         they tease me there as i
am about to jump over the fence,
 
         heavy calves, tinkling cotton,
all the running did nothing...
   
         they told me
         make sure there's no chalky dust carried over,
only put on your clothes when you slump to the other side, if


        (  "introduce yourself
           
          "yourself..."
         
           unto Us who never had a face who never loved a tree or a pissing dog i gather
             
           maybe what i am supposed to contribute
is in fact this degenerate pride, isolationism,

             ...sacred intoxication, splinters everywhere on bad

days, )



-



[on good days fusion for fission, comfort in hard science, repeat]


-



"separation is a scary
surgical word, don't ever use it,
besides you're young and the younger you are" and the calmer you are
the taller the crest
of the wave i rode

off the wave i fell and wrote
in the weeping aftermath

little did i know
even the dirt i professed to love
was teeming with
      something abstract

-

tell me
   did the sap contaminate me
do i bark out the pus of the soil


and if so


will you ever understand
something something white person angst shut up ghost, shut up.
Add a Comment:
 
:iconpersonghost:
Personghost Featured By Owner Apr 29, 2014  Student Writer
even the dirt i professed to love
was teeming with 
      something abstract

Trouble connecting with the world. i gotcha i think 
Reply
:iconghostinafog:
ghostinafog Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2014
hah, as usual. what's a ghost's life
Reply
:iconpersonghost:
Personghost Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2014  Student Writer
U seem like you've got some interesting stuff ghost
Reply
:iconladyelowyyn:
LadyElowyyn Featured By Owner Apr 28, 2014  Student General Artist
'In reality he ran his cows over with a tractor'. There is something so wonderful about this line which has stuck with me all day. Thank you fr making my lazy brain think.
Reply
:iconghostinafog:
ghostinafog Featured By Owner Apr 28, 2014
hah, that was actually a real thing
but thank you :heart:
Reply
:iconladyelowyyn:
LadyElowyyn Featured By Owner Apr 28, 2014  Student General Artist
Real thing? That is really strange, someone ran over their cows? That sounds like an interesting story. Meow :3 
Reply
:iconghostinafog:
ghostinafog Featured By Owner Apr 28, 2014
yeahh alcohol does strange things to people.
i miss my countryghost past sometimes. there were interesting stories everywhere
Reply
:iconladyelowyyn:
LadyElowyyn Featured By Owner Apr 28, 2014  Student General Artist
Yes it does, that is interesting. Do you get some of your inspiration from your past then?
Reply
:iconghostinafog:
ghostinafog Featured By Owner Apr 28, 2014
hardly ever. but i don't know really - i have a really intense love/hate relationship with the place where i live (leave) and literally everything related to it. so it gets into my "writing." wish it didn't but oh well
Reply
:iconladyelowyyn:
LadyElowyyn Featured By Owner Apr 28, 2014  Student General Artist
No, that probably makes it more potent and more 'real'. I'm sure it isn't a bad thing, but if it is it certainly makes your 'writing' unique and amazing. Wink/Razz 
Reply
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