maybe it's time to be the open spaces

early day and a guy keeps asking me what i'm trying to say what i'm trying to put across here before the sky goes black before it all ends before the seas fold in and we're all dust once again rolling down towards anything at all (and who knows what's down there in the deep deep black of endless night?)

so why question it?

i'm trying in the feeblest of ways (with tiny word wars) to explain how and why and when but moreso you and how to be or think or do- is the line holding, or have you dropped off?

and here it is, bouncing out at you like basketballs on uncalculated throws coming right at you like three thousand light years churning it's way into your brain into my brain into the sun and back again, it's only this:

you're on a rollercoaster and the little ticks and squeeks keep breaking your spirit keep bending you out to the edge of your being- every turn overwhelms you because you see it as a help or hindrance a good or bad a value judgment made on sand is every bit as silly as the one made on someone else (including me and you). so maybe on the ride you make enough noise that the people coming up behind you on the next two or three go arounds will hear you and talk about the crazy cat that screamed sloppy screams off bridgeways and through aisleways and doorways (maybe it's time to be the open spaces)

but the reality that maybe now just or maybe not at all and never will reach you is that you think your ride matters because it's yours and you think you need that to plow on through the unrotated fields of life and so your ups and downs count more than sunset counts or breaths taken in or the falling of autumn leaves but in the cold of dead nights i'm trying to pass along through symbols made by old riders that have longsince been forgotten just like i will be just like you will because twenty rides from now no one anywhere will know you rode at all.

maybe it's time to be the open spaces.

2006-03-25 | 1:22 p.m.
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