It's That Time of the Year Again

[kentes]

That's right,

I felt the desire to write free-verse tonight. Enjoy my annual gem of pretentiousness:

Up the stairs of concrete and spiral street signs
traversing soft windy reminders of the night soon dead
isolated by your choice
locked in a palatial splendor of industrial brick and old dust
same as it ever was, same as it ever will be

From dead leaves, budding bunches form
over our heads as the questions form
overtaking previous principled pressures to refrain
to deny and close my eyes
hold back my breath bursting with laughter
turn my smile to an angry cry

so much to think while the baby leaves seem to tower over me
aging while I stand still in silence
locked away at this moment in time
looking for a rhyme, maybe a song
that takes me by the hand and tells me "it's ok"

and the time keeps ticking
I know the leaves are browning soon
thirsty for chlorophyl, not chloroform
though I've got my preference
only one brings me to sleep tonight

I'm locked in my room
padded with the flesh in my skull
with nowhere to go, just replaying the footage
of dead leaves, the fresh grass
cold air and dim lights outside the walls

not a lie, nothing false, nothing can ever prove this wrong
this night, that day, those trees
the wood where i sit and the dirt where I walk, the leaves on my head and the dust on my jacket
Lying to myself about the world that did not change
even when the wind stopped blowing