Thursday, November 5, 2009

Where Do Flies Rest At Night?

Hazy peripherals embark their way into my tunneled in vision. I'm looking at too much! Sober days and sleepless nights. Vision extends and adjusts with each passing drug free day. Going strong, going strong.

Gum tree days of dry air and red dirt. Star filled nights of icicle winds and silence. Was it wrong to think I could find myself in this ghost town 500ks into the middle of fucking no where? Sure beats trying to find myself in a lost city of lost souls and tradgedy. Out here people seem to find purpose in themselves and if not they create some. But I mean, these people, there is like 10, surely that cannot be counted as a statistic. And there goes the ramble.... Maybe this time away from the poison air of perth will assist me in growning some appreaciation for what I have at home. What is home, and, is it even my own? Suddenly I don't have all of the answers.

Traffic fumes and street lamps. Illeagle activities and undercover guessing games. Bong hits and lust. It all seems as though none of this occured. So now, the rugged earth crackles under my shoes as it is slowely baked by the sun. Until the sun takes it's nightly absence, leaving the moon to reverse it's work.

I watch the coils of my cigarette mist converse with the moonlight, while the stars keep me in good company. Sitting outside, it's hard not to get spooked with the mouths of delapadated tin sheds staring me down.

Open your fucking eyes to the beauty..

1 comment:

  1. Wow, you're vocab is expanding drastically. Nice work, pretty one.