Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

OUT

In my dreams, there is ceaseless crying.
And it's always coming from me.
Sometimes I wake up and feel like
I have water in my head, sloshing my ideas around.
I'm going nowhere, and I want to go somewhere,
But have no map or money to take me anywhere,
And so I remain.
Like everyone else who has passed through here.
There is time enough for the world,
But there isn't time enough for me.

I'm doing nothing, going nowhere,
Sitting in my room dreaming of what I could be,
What I should be,
Helping the spirits, helping the family,
A servant to anyone who has the time to listen to me babble,
Crying in the dark, insomniac, sleepless egit,
Wishing on stars and praying with my writings,
Eating anything in sight, then
Going for periods in which I eat nothing at all,
Lifting weights and mourning losses, physicality fading,
Unhealthy, climbing trees, knowing nonsense,
Sitting on the rooftop allowing the wind to call my name,
Watching the eagles soar, whales swim, clouds cry, rain die,
Seeing family depart, drug addict cousins,
Tribal ways, cultural days,
Smudging the house with sweetgrass and sage,
Forgetting my sanity, eating everything that isn't good for me,
Smoking cigarettes, living in silent moments,
Regretting time, and projecting myself to Saturn,
Fiddling with the silver cord, and scissors
Looking for any kind of a way out.

October 6, 2004


*This has got to be one of my best rants ever, or so I think.


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