than be with one of you.
i’ve met so many people throughout my travels.
i’ve wandered through the many waysides and side roads that i could ride my mustang through and i understand the pain.
i felt the pain of others watching me through painted glass.
i looked at them and i could see them even though they were blurry still lifes
i knew what they looked like every day because they weren’t living.
every day the people did the same thing and they had the same conversations
and they wore the same colors and the sinned the same sins
they shamed their mothers.
i was one of those puppets for a long time.
a circus gypsy. i wore a mask and no one recognized me as a passerby in the bookshops i visited when i was trying to read the adventurous tales of those who didn’t do the same things and listen to the tales of those who accidentally did something different.
i was sick i wanted to vomit because of these people if that’s what you could even call them.
stick figures put together with elmer’s glue and popsicle sticks.
targets for spit straws at the diner.
ORDER UP, eggs and bacon sunny side up, and do you promise to do right by my girl, till death do you part? YES SIR.
of course, until it gets boring.
this is why i’m alone.
i’d rather be alone than be with one of them.