project
pitchfork plays
the
rain mimics my mood
pounding
the patio
where
i sit
my
hand is clothed
with
a can of beer
besides
that nothing
adorns
my flesh
jenny
joins my gloom
oversized
sweat shirt
baggy
jeans
bare
feet
her
nails scrape
the
back of my neck
jolting
me out of my brooding
within
moments
she
is as naked as me
flesh
flexing in the flood
of
puddles that pattern
the
patio
then
she is inside
toweling
herself dry
encasing
her form
in
clothing
i
light another smoke
open
another beer
project
pitchfork plays
“rain”
while
i wear the weather
on
my wet skin
lately
i have lingered in the land
of
sobriety
but
not tonight
my
heart is not decaying
with
the streets
jenny
has filled my life with meaning
and
time spent sober (mostly)
has
helped quiet the screams
but
it is not as if i am reborn
i’m
still the man who wrote “torn”
and
tonight the only thing
that
can spell relief
is
this beer buzz i feel encroaching
hunters
are always poaching
the
dark jungles of my mind
but
they will never find
a
way to make me recant
what
i wrote during my stay
on
the dark streets of decay
god
is spirit
does
not possess physical form
hands,
feet, a face
so
we will never be able to see
eye
to eye
recently
i reread the dark streets of decay
and
saw how much i prayed
for
love
jenny
is the answer to that prayer
but
that is all i have to share
as
theology
the
rain may be falling on me
but
it will never make me clean
i
meant what i wrote
and
i wrote what i meant
and
jenny may be heaven sent
but
i am still the author of
the
dark streets of decay
and
even though i couldn’t stay
(nihilism
is not a philosophy
that
one can live by and live)
i
will not take away
one
word from that book
never
say i was wrong
or
i’m sorry
and
believe me i do not worry
that
i will answer for my answer
the
beer is here
jenny
is near
and
the rain is the only sound i hear
i
am just enjoying
and
will hold all questions
until
the seminar is over
***
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