Monday, December 28, 2009

Look mom I'm the Road Runner

Last night I listened, I listened to the open halls closed in by rake and horror. I bent my head to its side, closed my eye's, and watched as the torment and rage billowed, swallowing me in madness. Before when I was young I would run through the house from room to room. A boy’s bright light toys and the silence of denial of life in reverse as mother watches me run down the hall. I thought if I ran fast enough I could be the road runner. I walk the hall and by god his tourniquet tightened, how mommies love makes me vomit, like affairs in the neighbor’s house, heroine needles in dad's Vietnam arm and god’s awful lust of open smiles hailing shells into women and children. I stood and absorbed it watched reality seep into my Virgil mind, tomorrow I'll be 35 sleeping on a foam mattress in the attic, listening to the silent drawl over and over, “Look mom I'm the road runner."

1 comment:

  1. wow, this is so very powerful. there is a flow to the writing here from a mind that, while it seems to constantly criticize and analyze itself, is actually freed from the act of overediting... something to be thankful for! yup, powerful real writing. xoxooxox