Litkicks Message Board Archive
out of tune (and so less then them
Everyone seemed so elsewhere,
so less then present,
and when I noticed this, it seemed to move me,
to be more less then them,
further elsewhere, so detached that I didn’t go back,
and this is when I arrived.
A fork in the road of this motionless traveling,
from one sentence to the next, from one thought and express, I move too quick to keep up, jumping leaps ahead, in head, and pen loiters too long and bottoms out while trying to recall it’s forgetfulness, but can only reminisce on how it was fit right in, like shoehorn, and appropriate. Left instead with a sore thumb, and I think I’ve heard this before, and of course I must do it again, but feels,
as it sounds, to be much less then more.
Her presence was majestic, affecting, and more then I could afford, when spending time with some reckless abandon,
and flooding over emotion, she would sing herself songs somewhat out of key;
Lips swell and trip on the words
then fell and although no one was hurt
who would have known
that those words of mine
are the only things I’ve held my own
held too long
and was over thrown
by those green eyes
in which I’m drowned
and even my own words can’t save me now.
She had a twisted bold lined root tattoo on her ring finger, long black hair that reflected the colors as they passed by, and seemed to fade behind her, or inside her, and a face, so beautiful, that just to look at her reminded me why I came, why I was there, why I would stare for long periods of time, losing touch with the surroundings,
as my eyes surrounded her, and I was unaware that she could
absorb me, I think until someone told me, trying to sell me, I played vague until they left, not telling them they had sold me, they sold me.