I found him swinging in a fresh breeze.
He was hanging from a dead tree.
-Told me to listen
-Asked me to kill him
Once he was done,
He wasn’t done wreaking mayhem.
Glassy eyes drained of surprise
He tells me with a settled smile
We’re doomed to chase that paradise
We’re doomed to live in crests and dives.
Prisoners of our own lies
Imprisoned by these mortal highs
To toss aside the smiles we find
To leave the highest crests behind
Because there at the edge
Where the sky meets the horizon,
-That’s where we’ll be happy
-That’s where we keep our eyes on
Discarding what’s in front of us
The next trough might just swallow us
That’s okay because it means
The next crest will be more glorious
At least that’s what we tell ourselves,
Putting on our diving bells,
Tolerating shallow hells,
Existing on the carousel.
Milk spilled, time squandered,
I’m barely human anymore.
But I’m understanding more
Than I ever did before.
I had to shut him up
He wouldn’t stop smiling
The brand of persistence
That makes pacifists violent.
But then the branch snapped
Under the too-heavy human metronome
His grin evaporated
Again doomed to share this hellish home…
Paper Street Diaries 