#109

dry spell in a wet hell morning nothing but boring crustacean land life wavering on the brink of plankton worthless boneyard flavor in the depths of puddle pie crazy as a naked jaybird on the wagon off caffeine sans cigarettes by no means straight edge and by no means mormon or born again just a clear mind to antagonize the world without clouds and lapses of memory and humiliations when someone else can tell my story better than i can whats up my gayness on the soccer field after they scare or oops i just farted as i hit the pitch in golden valley that port of call that layover in my young life that i remember more vaguely than i want to even clemmons fades away lost in the dense brambly forest of tanglewood escaped horses in the yard smoking refires with josh and making out with ashley at the ymca and going up her shirt at the water park and jordans arm breaking during the soccer game like a twig snapping off a high branch and now memory trees fall in tanglewoods wilderness and im not there to seem them or hear them but sometimes i find myself alone in the wilderness crying or laughing or finding fallen fragments of branches that used to mean something but now i cant quite place them