Litkicks Message Board Archive

the fear...

Posted to Action Poetry




going past the old houses.... the nausea of seeing the weary-eyed vague friends you once knew so well....

its this city that gets to me... the one that fell on its back... the friends who would be there for eternity, they vanish.... step outside look at the newspaper on the front door step, been sitting there for a month, it's fading, all the letters are smudging, wearing away.....

how much more exists beyond the front yard, what is graspable, alot of road, but very little movement... feeling crippled within a house, really a vacant lot, i can't move.... believe me though i want to.... this rag is wearing old.... need to get out, no matter how long it takes.....