i feel as though i should kind of,
sort of be able to see the hearse from here,
a never-ending procession of dedicated traffic
gleaming to be seen,
metallic, chrome, it's nothing but an envy scene,
chalk-full of passengers who are
lost and angel-less,

in this reflective state
i am an embodied change of pace,
i am adaptation personified,
i am one in every four,
and i'm just another set of headlights
in someones rear view mirror,
smog aside, in this golden state
i'm able to see so much clearer,

it's hard to be where i want to be
when i'm less than the next in line,
when the line's a thousand miles long,
when these miles that i'm traveling
never remind me of anything,
and my thoughts keep driving back to you,
you are the wings i pine to have,
you are the soul i long to mate,
and you are the hearse i yearn to follow...

it is hard to live in a winter
where nothing wilts or changes,
where i'm longing to be cold and melancholy
and the weather is a matter of whether or not,

and i feel like sprouting wings,
departing from this ordinariness
toward blue skies, palm trees, and power lines,
pull them all down and follow them home
where i could write what i know,
right what i know
is wrong, respectively,
when the fact of the matter is that i know nothing, comparatively...

12/16/2005

Posted on 12/16/2005
Copyright © 2025 Frankie Sanchez