my life was crammed into a single bag, following me close n tight where ever i went.
I'd adventure to random curbs and benches and cafes. sit for a spell, thinking to myself.
about the things outside that never really occurred. I'd tell myself stories while munching
on some bread. drinking a tea, jones soda, or nos. watching everything till i got tired or bored of it.
get back up. walked away. another day dead...
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i wandered city streets where gravel and metal structures of buildings stretched out and rearranged
themselves pointing down. the sun was sitting curved,it's back to the world staring off into space.
the air was fighting with the dirt and the dirt didn't let go. the people were causing a commotion
over the disruption of a sidewalk. and the lights were playing games with everything else in any way they could.
i payed attention to all of it. everything.
an old friend once told me i focused too much on my surroundings. maybe he was right.
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my skin fell apart to flecks of golden rays, converting my throat to a serpents tongue.
i killed my humanity in terms of ages i had lost a long time ago.
i am a statue of personal failures considered success.
watch me sink. as the world continues to soar.
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there was a myth to everything. i was witnessing my life from someone elses perspective.
just watching thru the eyes going thru the motion. my voice just comes out. my hands just move.
i just walk and peddle and move about. it all felt like a story with no plot, climax, or points
of interest. just interesting points of troding along with something neat to do.
i wasn't myself. i was just a witness waiting to close the book. just a bystander in the body
of the person im watching. that's all.