wrote this at the parkway last night...
“Well I don’t know where I am exactly.
-I hear swift rubber wheels with dull engines coasting the cement, over that I hear pouring liquid and plush, plash, glup and glap, the smooth, heavy trickle of our source of wet. Beyond that I head the mumble of a muffled attempt at voice colliding with the coinciding zoom and vroom of heavy round machines that are the icon of power.
-I smell the blandness of white smoke from a tobacco burn and the too familiar drift of wet earth and toxic air.
-I taste the dry shag of fire and desire. And the after taste of burnt satisfaction lingers shortly.
I see a simple and natural flip of lightness. I see the flash and stream of color-infused light; I see the organic longitude of wood and bush intertwined with the dark shadows of iconic mass. I see the trails of once whole, steady sources of bright dreams, only to see which produce a magical aura of prismatic peace. I see the collapsed concept of built structure in completion to residential belief, back-shadowed by the vast infinite of deep, whole, Wonder, accompanied by drifting lasers enthralling puffs of galactic waste; which we coin
beautiful mundane.
And I feel, I feel...
I feel alone, full,
And notoriously sure.
Iwantamilkshake.
MC8|9|09”
