i'm writing again. thank god.

[as_i_wander]

so i started a short story about a black woman i met that completely amazed me.

until i finish it and get ballsy enough to let anyone within 5 feet of it, here's something i was making up on the drive home from biloxi.

it freakin sounds like a commerical for the OC or something.

one boy, one girl
one night, a trip
to a town destroyed
by fate and nature.

a bed on the street
a tree in a car
a water marked house
with mildew on walls.

an empty room
two cots, no light
just arms, hold tight
for this short time.

the drive, daylight
make bleak look grim
i sob and stare
at these ghost folk.

giant trucks scream
and pick up heaps
these people's lives
picked up, thrown out.

but we drive back
to our bright home
and thank our stars
that we still could.

-end-

every single sensation in me is burning right now.
i've never felt so alive and thankful for it.
seeing that part of the world woke up my ghost.
and she said "get up and get out while you can".

maybe it's just shock and it'll wear off in a day or so
but i'm going to push myself further than i thought i could
because i'm not doing this for me anymore.
i'm doing this for US, for this family that never completely broke ties.
i'm going to succeed and get out of here to save my close companions.
he's not staying in that hell much longer, and i'm seeing to it.

i don't expect understanding.
i expect criticism and eventual acceptance.