where we went wrong

In the song he sang last night he said its never too late to be what I could have been, To do what I could have done. But at breakfast this morning I took death tolls with my French toast. A glass full of helicopter crashes. Weeping widows at the fireside. And the gunshots as the sun set were not meant to alarm us. The cops said its not to worry: ”Fireworks over the river” Or something innocent like that. And we believe the flashes in the sky are a celebration Like the 10 millionth down. Of course. But as I wrote it down I insisted art is alteration. Desire, destruction. Even though a voice is never viable: Scream all you want but they wont believe you. They wont accept it til we see the edge of the world. On fire. And we joke about acid rain, how they send our disposable citizens to the Congo. How it’s ok Because they were Canadian. Even though they live American. Bleed American like 8^th grade melodies. And the first time I saw those videos, Sang along, Saw peers lose their parents to progress and progressive lies. Still no one will question it. It’s too touchy a subject like all of us. All of us love touching. We love loving for touch and eating for taste and driving for wind, But hate winding down our taste to touch something clean. Then there’s always the graduation songs they refuse to give up on. It’s not that hard to write your own goodbyes. Its not that hard for most because they wont remember. Theyre drinking blood and smoking steak and we’re all too fat to realize where we went wrong. It couldn’t have been the French toast. It could have been those crayons I stole in kindergarten that sent us all off course. They told me it would get me someday but I didn’t think it would take us all down. If only someone would have warned me About Macaroni & Cheese and Purple Mountain Majesty.

How was I to know we die so young?

~ by youngskeletons on July 19, 2008.