hello to the real world

i've missed you.

i'm sunburnt and i haven't been hungry in what feels like days. not forever, just days.
i'm listening to chamber music and wondering why it's called that
adn when it ends abruptly i change my mind and start
asking myself where freckles come from.
i have more freckles every day.

i love my freckles.
and my freckles love me back.

darrow's locomotive

i can't stop thinking
about an old country house with a
wrap-around, white-washed wooden porch,
where an old man lives.
i suppose his name is Dennis O'Malley,
mostly because it suits him,
and also a little bit because
he can't remember for himself.
where falcons go to hide,
and run to Avalon.
there are two sets of train tracks
surrounding that old house,
which were thought to be abandoned.
but no, no, they're just
in hiding.
it's a one way trip for
(and i can't stop thinking about)
all those who choose to take it.
and the view from the place has eroded with time
but will be reborn.
falcons, falcons,
Jude Faulkner.
make my world beautiful again.
save us.
save us.
save us.

contractual

today i shook the hand
of the man who punched a hole
in my bedroom door.

"you're right. i am scared.
but i am also pissed.
i have just as many rights as you.
i do not have to answer to you,
and i will not.
you will not make demands of me,
you will make requests.
and respect is earned through actions,
not age."

today i shook the hand
of the man who punched a hole
in my bedroom door,

and i think he gave all his splinters
to me.

ouch.