"i heard thunder once." oh yeah, there was thunder!

what you seek for, you don't find
{she by the bayside water, in pin-striped coral shorts, wears the weather by her waist, as a sash that accidentally dipped into the toilet water, as she sat down, now she she just stands there wading.}

what they called eveil was a scrawny boy in cut-off jean shorts, not too short, covered in freckles, with a reddish beard hardly growing in at 22 years old.
the kind of face with one eye closed revealed feminine, with the other, masculine.
wonder if this half-vision sat in him deeply on the daily, now in the aftermath of his death. on this day, over 3 years ago, now.

(please don't red my blog please don't read my blog, please don't read my blog.)

no it wasn't just him that taught me how to recognize that look, some of you only see in the movies, of when you're doin' something but you're not saying nuthin. you're feeling some things. but you're not there. no. you're somewhere else. you're in the space that collides with the heart you left somewhere else, and that place ain't a nice place either. in fact, both places twined, spare your mind the extra javelin thrust. (you know where too, or do I have to explain what centered is)

it's a certain look, one could say, "out of it"
it's what you do when you don't know what to do, when you don't even try to know.


I will find that mother fucker in my dreams. and I will take him to my bone-teeth-jaw.
I will find that mother fucker. and I will reveal his sins, but not so much that I like that ice-cream so slanted sugary sweet off the ground and reach dirt.
no i'll stop right before ice lifts above ground.
I won't lick his sin.
or her sin.
yes, i'll be open minded.


and when you see that look, that face, that far-off glare, and the holding still of eye-balls, and holding still of body-cage, you know what that face is.

that's the the the face of yer child self trying to get out but trapped in by imbobilizing horror.