ripe for the picking

Torn from the land
Where concept paints scenes
Neck crooked and desperate to see the other side
To speak the language
Of ancestors and saints
Glued opposite a long misused penny

Squirreling
Legs burning
Hurling

To guess at what might be me in a parallel universe gone perpendicular
Crashing clouds surround the sound of trickling senses with things to say
With life to express

Hone in on your deserted you
Left long ago
Curled up on concrete
Waiting for salvation
The light to say it's all over
Or that it's begun again

Secrets
Hidden threads
The braid that transverses girlish heads
Leading to the horror of what you thought life might be
Don't stop licking the sidewalk

Don't sit in silence
Without a hat to shield your eyes
Or to keep you warm
When a brisk wind comes to warn
Of the turning of another plate
Your will keeps falling from the sky

Crashing down on bits of candy
A taste to sweeten your desire
To hold you in between what you thought you knew and the life that has already begun
Be squelched between the war of worlds
True universe holds great discomfort

Salvation is pain when you didn't think you wanted it
Pain is life force you can't pretend is cotton between your toes
You can't pretend your eyes don't burn
When you see that horror comes pre-coated with sugar

You've been missing the point all along
Diddle dallying hoping for your savior to hit you over the head and induce vision of the path you
always knew was waiting

Your blood runs thick with gifts of gods
While horror wears a pretty lace dress
Your finger nails scrape the shit that you can't tell Isn't truth at all

All the tools sit out ripe for the picking

--5/17/15
   jitana