December 17, 2015
I wrote this in a few minutes as I first listened to the new song Exit 353 by Damien Jurado.
i’m not ready for what you want of me.
i’m not ready.
i haven’t packed my stuff.
i haven’t buckled my straps and belts.
i’m not ready.
i haven’t a voice to speak.
i haven’t breathe in my lungs — shot full of holes.
wind blows through my dry dust bones like a western plain.
they brought me a birthday cake.
it was pink and blue and frosted white.
i lay in my bed and looked at it through glassy eyes.
the sunlight shown behind their heads and created yellow sun fringes.
i reached for the fork and spoon— the white paper napkin with the frilly lace edge.
he stood in the corner. the liar and the cheat.
the copycat dressed in fancy jacket and glasses.
he looked at me and smiled. i looked at him.
you must watch out.
inside the cake was an angel made of salt and light
and inside of the angel was a small wolf with fire in his eyes.
and he spoke the truth.
and he led the way.
and i hoped i was beginning to understand.
and when i closed my eyes i felt no pain.
the rocket engines rumbled into existence.
the heat made me feel like i was ok.
i was shaking and the vibrations soothed my aching bones—
deep into my core and i closed my eyes once more.
im ok, right? im ok, right?
deep breathes and soon we were home.
i am ready. I am ready.
– kyle
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