This mind and these times
Are just right for growing
And will be so ripe so soon,
Come this fall.
And although this season
Has flooded over,
It has met the proper conditions-
Patriots, not
Anarchists, yes.
We are fit for the taking.
Pirates of--This land!
This day and even more
When the sun has gone to rest
Beneath the horizon.
Awaken! Rise from sleep
And lather in the night.
The waxing moon sets the
Seams in soil,
Sow desire above the water
That has drenched the
Already flooded fields.

Flames flicker in between us; six dancing bodies illuminating a porch space that has been a figurine in my life since i was a naive and imaginative child. Smoke that has taken captive of these lungs now lingers about luminescent dreams, weaved from memory to mind and around thoughts lulling about.

Smile wide pretty eyes, because our grins will meet to the death at the end of lavender lavished kisses. Beans of cocoa and coffee seek refuge in our memories clouded with rolled-tobacco cigarettes and tranquil desires. I remember that spending nights alone are over-rated, especially in the wake of such a fog that has moisturized all corners of my skin. It is not my memory that is hazy, it is the future laid before; fate again, i now rest in your hands! This once, please forward your best.

Tragedy sweeps and takes some by surprise. As overwhelming as it seems, enduring is a high priority when pain swells the body. Emotional stimulation seems sullen at best when sorting turmoil from everyday syncronocity. Seething panic feathers out to meet distress, screaming for help; bellow for regression and hope for the sweltering--Meltdown and let all aspects of day bleed into the night.

***

Your gaze pierces thighs to eyes of the passerby. Globes roll back lick the cerebellum for lack of knowledge of what moves on and past the scene before your time. Your voice rings sweet as sour apples rotting below your heart--So tart i would spit it out if ingested, or placed anywhere near these supple lips whispering each word as i spill them out. I lay down the lines of wrath and wraith--Fact, sugar coated to make it easier to bare the taste.

I have been thinking for the past few days that the next couple weeks would be remarkably spontaneous. The last thing i expected was that circumstance would pull me back home. So where i am sitting, in the place i sought out to escape from, starting so long ago until my most recent escape. I have strange priorities, but atht the same time, they make perfect sense--My family, how long i stood on bad terms with them, is important to me now. When my mum called me this AM in a blistering panic, i knew i needed to come back and comfort her whether my grandmother was in a sustainable condition or not. Besides, i am sure my grandmother could use some, or all, of the support she can get.

It is like nothing has changed here. The sense of not belonging still lingers, but despite, i will most likely stay when i return in the fall. Regardless of the flaws this place has, it is a familiar place to base myself for many reasons; the most important being my family.

****

The overcast is scudding above, breaking into fragments and separating enough to let the sky show through. The light reflects off of the building's glass faces as beautifully as it ever has. I believe this is my most favourite place for this weather, and it is most definitely one of the more prestigious qualities of this measly downtown strip.


The foliage is now full, and i recognize an abundance of the faces moving up and down the street, but the unfamiliar strikes me with a curious wondering. The green is awesomely refreshing in the most familiar of ways. And then memory is shaken--I am brought back to the present as the pavement shakes from a passer's footsteps.