poetry for the desert

stale socks and the smell of 600 cigarettes,
none from yourself
but by,GOD...your a poet,BOY!
YOU were born to smell like the rest of 'em!
We huddle on the premise of the hostel off 66
in 'querque,new mex
talking about the future & what we need from it...
staying hip is why we will bleed from it...
all acceptable...all unreasonable...
"I got your mom at the dream angle with a pocket tube."
those kind of grimy sentences that you'd like to write home about
if even half of your family would understand you
but you don't even understand you!
you end up at synagogs on Sunday mornings for Christan worship services
& free breakfast...high as fuck...delicately discussing your thoughts on the beatitudes;
& what Jesus means to you.
I mean he seems like a cool dude...
so thats why you hide your phone in your pamphlet during the sermon texting your best friend...
"only you dude."
only you would surf the couches of the world from your group...
only you aren't concerned about monetary aspirations...
only you.
and obviously the kingdom of heaven isn't in the rear view...
what kind of poets would we be if we didn't read until we were kicked out of the venue...
"we're all here from out of town,so fuck off! We'll go until you shut us down!"
& even then we wont have half our shit out of the green room...
luckily my green was still in its container...but the eight year olds with a dance show case had some how gotten,Paul's,vodka & pepsi bottle...
so we knew...
smiling and scurrying out as fast as possible with a non sealant attitude...
only to be separated by the gentle sunset of an albequrque beer run...
where bud,metro & I shot shit like bullets
& lindsey,rae & ryder spared no expenses as the night bled with its colors...
Tao.
the seasons...an impound worry...tax breaks & election treason...
the reason half of us will never see what we deserve seeing...
but fuck the reasoning...and fuck hurrying
if I could spend the rest of my life in this moment then I wouldn't trade it for the universe...
and maybe if I was older...
maybe my heart wouldn't be so hard.
AND maybe if you didn't have a superhero...
I'd just take a trip to,Arizona....or say whats on my mind...
or just move into this hostel and just...doze off...waste some time
but reality comes tomorrow...
and I still havent taken these clothes off..
even after the miles of glass I walked...
or the miles of glasses I drank...
I don't know if I can go home ever again...
but then again...this is the first time Ive had a home since I was seventeen (and even that one was owned by the church)...so...
maybe this one time.
maybe this life is working exactly how I deserve it to be...
maybe at this moment,
God,
is smiling down on me saying
"relax,B"

JESUS CHRIST,GOD DAMNIT,YOU KNOW MAYBE I WILL!

instead of writing wills every day...
carving headstones will be my thing.
that way the world will breathe with me.
but no,
some do it for the fame
some for the glorification of their name...
thats why I don't use a real one...its simply God's will.

so I can stay true