Adam’s Garden

beyond my house, before i was born, there was a lion.  a tired lion, without clothes or features, just a cloud of anger and dust.  when i was born, the lion died.  any my parents were angry with me for killing the lion.  the lion protected our house from intruders and rodents.  both of which are bad.  after i was born, our house was not protected from rats, bats, and murderers.  so i was guilty forever.  when i was old enough, i left home and killed a lion and put it on the front porch.  

im not sure how to approach on the vixen’s lane, but i appear to be ready and able to run the planet as i see fit.  and fit i am, not unlike the dorothy dandridge, the dorothy pantsraid that i wanted.  but yet, i can tell you that i still a finite being, without limits, without pride or fair play, or any other sort of regularity.  i am totally unique and special and there is nobody just like me.  my therapist amuses me as she gesticulates around her words for my disease, like preoccupied or depressed, but i remain forthright and hopeful that people will finally fucking realize that i actually am the center of the earth.  i created the heavens and the earth and that is why all my thoughts are accurate and all my feelings are facts.  wont this dumb bitch just shut up about my “borderline personality disorder.”

behind my head i see the wolverine claw and all i feel the death of moment’s notice.  i cannot understand how or why these men had to kill my mother, but they did, they fucking did and i could have stopped them but i did not.  i could help everything and nothing, i could feel and fear all my children as they were talked down to among the chosen youth of my younger afternoon sun.  the sun was brighter then, more deliberate, more distasteful, more yearning, more danger, more everything.  

i am not sure how i feel about the world we take to our kitchens, i fear the earthy residue of the gun as it clicks past empty, warning me that i am out of ammunition, and that i must reload to find fame.  

honesty, on the path to integrity, i come across honesty.

of all messages that erupted in sin, i can no longer take the silent vow of negativity that holds many so dear to my vains indeed torched by the sins of the romantics.  i cannot vow towards a managed view of civilization, but i can indeed fail you in tremendous valor.  i am unsure of myself now, cowardly and deliberate, unsure but brave, negative yet filled with ardor and conviction, the manner of my walk indicates malignance and indignation, but my speech colored with sadness takes the tone of the discontent, as if i were somehow just as bad as those i see shoveling shit into their mouths.

with the take i currently maintain, i can only say to you that i cannot fear the wrath of death, i engage the antiquity of conversation and despair at the current stream of thought.  we collect our resources and pool knowledge and the best we can do is…..

onward, dear brother, onward.

im not sure if you know how hard i try, or how much i know about your operation, but i know that you are watching me and that i am watching you.  so lets end this nonsense with a torrid love affair, so i can start respecting myself again, and so i dont keep getting turned away at movie theaters because i stay sobbing in the aisles for hours after the closing.  the closing is a term that i use regularly and is not a typo.

i can smell the fear of my armpits, they are roasting inside of my arms.  and with that i began my four month trek towards the horizon, not knowing that my boat was going to capsize in three months, and that in the fourth month i would find the horizon, only to find another horizon.  this was before maps, and before tv, and before the internet.  this was when love was a battlefield, and everything else was hope.  these were the days of exploring.

and exploring i went, from coast to coast, from sea to sea, and all along i noticed that i could never quite reach that line so far away, this mythical horizon.  i threw rocks at it, i ate meals near it, i even prayed to it, but alas, i could not find any definition for it.  it was not a cloud, not a monster, not a god, not a woman, not a new moon.  it was out of my reach.

so one day, i told my family that i was headed for the ocean once more, this time in search of the horizon.  i was stunned at their silence, they all looked down at their plates and coughed, wincing about in his chair, my youngest said, “but papa, the horizon is always there, gosh you can see it from here, who needs to go to sea to see something you can see from the hut?”  

he was so right.

on the top of the world, i seek the melonic wondrance of sight and sound.  alone in a wilderness of the fire, i sing of you quietly til i cannot see anymore.  i am not the one they speak of, yet my endearing melody plays sound out of bounds.  i care not for who i seek, i alone take you here.  speaking of the wonder that made me a human, i take out of bounds passes across great buffoon’s face.  myself, a traitor.

above the world i see what is ready for me.  i see what is my own, and i can cry aloud to those who cannot feed into my anxiety.  i can see the rainbows as they appear and i can taste the clouds as they deliver themselves to me.  i am the one who cannot feel anymore.  i am the one who cannot maintain the right relevancy.  i am the one who cannot see what i feel, and no more than that, i can see what is there for me to take.  i am the one who can see the world rotate and then back away and wonder about the shape of your thighs.  i am the quiet soldier who cannot say yes until he is sure he is in love and can find no love stronger than the one you provide.  i am that sociopath, not quite sure of himself, but still leaning towards a future that you can read.  i am so vulnerable right now i can only feel the power of this word.  

i have stolen a title and i will use it to my displeasure, i will unite the forces that be and render myself useless as a dove.  and yes i can function in this world and still maintain my sanity.  it is my sanity that holds me and takes where i am missed.  and all i can say is that i am grateful, always grateful for my ability to stay sane amidst all this madness.  i cannot do much or believe in myself or write a beautiful line on command, but i stay within and find the magic of sensation in a walk down the boulevard.  so regard my arrogance with a nod and politely mutter to your girl that that man across is a street is a malcontent and must be content.  

i politely swat a fly as it address me directly, regarding my money i have none for you sir so move away, neither do i have a sentence for you ma’am though your eyes are quite enticing.  excuse me miss, but i must memorize your face, the angles in your cheeks make my soul cough in a good way.  like a you know what kind of way.  well yes miss i have missed you and do require a lover, but no miss i do not understand why you must say what you say and fuck who you fuck, no i do not know why you said that, no i do not know why i am not listening to you, no i cant explain why you bother me sometimes, yes i am a tolerant person, but i am not a pushover, ok fine, ok fine ok fine, i will move to siberia and marry a nun and live a life of ungrateful honesty.

all these things ran through my mind as i crossed the intersection meeting a friend for cocacola at the drivein.  granted i was drunk on laughter at the time and most thoughts during laughter make no sense, though they are funny.  maybe we all just try to maintain ourselves and if we are sad we stay sad and if we are happy we stay happy if we are bored we stay bored.  not me, im a regular rollercoaster of dynamite.  

and to say that i am stoned is to say to a butcher that he cuts meat.  i know not why it is worthy of conversation.  and it stoned me.

on the quiet side of the street, with angels gloomily studying my physique i guarantee the outcome of this most recent project, a delicate balance of severity and the truth, a delicate balance of the untied wonder of the jacko lantern.  i study the objects that come my way and assess their utility.  then i proceed interacting with these objects to my benefit.  when use is worn down, i endure until i cannot use the object any more physically, then i discard the object. 

i honestly cannot tell a lie.