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I just wrote a poem
Sitting alone with a gun in one hand
In the other, a rising sun
Yes, actually holding onto the sun itself but it's not even burning my hand
So, I decided to take that sun and use it for something good
I lost something very important to me in the process
So, I waste my time now
I sit and think of what I lost and what I'm losing but don't worry about what I will lose more of
The elements of control: the potential to lose what I've already lost
I make feature length movies with the shadows from my hands.
My best friend is a dead deer mounted on the wall
With a cigarette in its mouth that I light for show
I'm actually wiring a system that makes the cigarette blow smoke
If I had acquaintances to come over, they'd marvel at its wonder
My acquaintances won't come over, though
Despite my shadow-hand movies and smoking dead deer heads
I think the sun alienates them
I've been spending too much with it
Caressing it solar center
When it feels sexy, it slips in solar eclipse
The beauty of ionized metals is far beyond the grasp of simple human minds, you know
It's like a catterpillar turning into a butterfly
Or a slow peel-back of the tiny mouths on the flaky enamel ceiling above their rotting heads
See, I grew old when I was young
From staring into that sun
So now I can be young forever
I don't need anyone else
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