Not one of them knew the color of her smile.
Their eyes stared level, fastening upon the inevitability of the day.
The rushing approach of darkness and the glorious mortal weakness of sleep. Who could ask children to know the fine porcelain of her cheek or the anticipated thrill of her lips?
Just as the sand shifts beneath the rolling tracks of an armored personnel carrier, the minutes drip through the hourglass and we all wake with revised expectation and heavily edited, lackluster laundry-lists of realizable daily tasks.
You could check out at anytime you wish.
You could throw your trousers in a sack, grab some greasepaint, & hit the open road.
This is what killed Kerouac, inevitability. It wasn't the road. All the intrigues, adventures, romances, late nights, early dawnings,... ad nauseam
weren't the culprit of his demise.
Same as Cobain & Elvis.
Our eyes are opened wide before they slam shut.
The hardest thing is to unsee.
It's harder to unknow.
The joy and the speed and the whirl of this life.
Tossed from coast to coast or halfway around the world.
We've woke up in so many beds, looked through all the windows, dove deep into the highest resolution,... How could we go back?
To being simple and naturally occurring
or remotely naive
Their eyes stared level, fastening upon the inevitability of the day.
The rushing approach of darkness and the glorious mortal weakness of sleep. Who could ask children to know the fine porcelain of her cheek or the anticipated thrill of her lips?
Just as the sand shifts beneath the rolling tracks of an armored personnel carrier, the minutes drip through the hourglass and we all wake with revised expectation and heavily edited, lackluster laundry-lists of realizable daily tasks.
You could check out at anytime you wish.
You could throw your trousers in a sack, grab some greasepaint, & hit the open road.
This is what killed Kerouac, inevitability. It wasn't the road. All the intrigues, adventures, romances, late nights, early dawnings,... ad nauseam
weren't the culprit of his demise.
Same as Cobain & Elvis.
Our eyes are opened wide before they slam shut.
The hardest thing is to unsee.
It's harder to unknow.
The joy and the speed and the whirl of this life.
Tossed from coast to coast or halfway around the world.
We've woke up in so many beds, looked through all the windows, dove deep into the highest resolution,... How could we go back?
To being simple and naturally occurring
or remotely naive
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