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I Never Could Do Her Justice -or- Just Beyond
i am not
a literary laureate
i am not
a nobel prize winning author
i am not
a member of mensa
i
am
a fool,
but i know my words hold water.
i know my thoughts
however muddled
by drink
by smoke
by desire
are perfectly clear.
thoughts fueled with
alcohol
nicotine
faith
heart
grit
all i ever cared about that was lost.
friendship.
alienation
acceptance.
the universal truth,
that
its
all
bullshit.
however,
during
throughout
our pursuit
of this futile fucking enterprise
naively called
truth justice
and
love rage
and
we are occasionally afforded
a glimpse over the hill,
on the horizon;
between the ripples of the charles viewed from a crab apple tree,
of that perfect
unattainable
paradise.
on her lips, over the hudson,
i found printed,
the way back,
but I was lost in her eyes.
so it goes.
only strengthens our resolve.
thickens our brotherly
sisterly
blood
burns our veins.
scars our hearts.
we'll keep staring over hills,
just above the sunset,
in between
beers
and love
ripples
paradise,
is believing
in something better
for us all,
and wishing
to find her,
first.
2-03-08
boyd.
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