Thursday, October 31, 2013
written after going back on his word by jake kilroy.
serenading you, like an orchestral xylophone,
sounding like the silver lining of your daydreams,
clanging against the porch of your woodblock head,
where you've sat for the last few days, unmoved,
waiting for prayers to bloom like white roses for you.
the future was beautiful once, when it was framed,
unreachable, impossible, and desperately beloved.
now you're here, and you catch yourself
out of place in your own apartment shower,
listening to gerry mulligan and paul desmond
tell you to calm down and consider sobriety.
you were smarter when you were younger.
you were better before you had a chance.
you were everything you had always
hoped to be at the stupid age of 10.
now you're up a creek, caught between sayings,
and you're still not sure, even after all this,
following years of mistakes and miseries,
if you'd trade places with the kid.