Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Route to Boston

This is not a holiday spree. No, nor one of those relocations. I've spent a good part of my lifetime culling the lifeblood out of uprooting, migrating and all that leaver jazz. It's pain right now even as I speak.

I came home with a sense of tenacity and drive. It was shortlived. My gas ran out in a matter of days shortly after the demise. I guess I'm still hung over from the sad love story. Any desire to kill and murder would serve no sentence to this abyss of depression, yet the thought is still so strong. I seek no longer to understand but to be alleviated from this curse I seem to have stumbled upon. Why won't they leave me alone and have me run away to this desert island I am now in? People. Don't you just love and hate them all the same?

I dug deep beneath my breast pockets to find the same tears that left the shores of the sunny garden state still crystalized in form. Do I now go selfishly or listen to the wise sage? Do I seek my pure goals or serve the ones who brought me up? Or do I have to choose at all? Money does solve alot of things and give you time to slow down and breathe. If you haven't had them, how do you know what the other side of the coin really is? So please don't preach me textbook wisdom. For the inception of which comes across as naive folly. Stop me not in my path to the sunset. Cut me not as a poppy growing tall. My pounch grew so fast it seems you have something to do with it. And may I add how I sometimes hate you and not the deed.

If I spoke french and had a different colour, I wonder how different I would be? Not much except a more beautiful conception of suicidal notes bound into a best selling novel. All because white is so much pleasing than an undecided yellow banana. At the least of it, there would be some legacy left after the departure. But even then, would I take it? I tell you this much. It is very tempting.

Some things don't have choices, so don't go there. Seems like I got myself lost in all this silly rubbish.

Whatever you do, don't let the music die in me. For that day comes with a package of gnashing and grinding and how I dread it in my sleepless nights. Let me go to Boston and free my slaves. Keep the wolves from stealing my dreams of salvation. Just stop the fucking questions.

cjt

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