Sunday, February 22, 2009

Progress For Vultures

I am not as creative or as eloquently put together as other people. Over the years I've watched friends become strangers with familiar faces. I've lost just as much as I've gained and feel good that I'm even close to breaking even. Self-esteem doesn't live here, I'm as good dead as I am alive.

That said, all I do is listen to Cat power and Snapcase, while reading constantly. Life is good. Never been better. Worst ever.

Hey there vulture,
swooning in the glare of the sun,
stirring the whirlpool in your kettle,
you can't just wait to taste blood,
no one can get near that diseased carcass
that you call life,
I long to quit you but all I get is dry mouth,
spitting sand at all walks of life,
so you can pick me clean,
white of bone and dry of blood,
it seems you keep popping up when
I least need your affection or attention,
I wish to quit you but you sense the end,
and retain a drive to ruin all that warms me,
block out the sun so as to shade my eyes,
block out the sun so we can all be blind.

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