Thursday, December 21, 2006

Hobo Humanity

We are a race in a race in constant course correction
We are one rejection slip away from failure
We are one deflection away from disaster
We live in the boxcar of a dream
Our dream on the rails but always shaking
On the road but always skidding
Making mistakes or creating vices
Devices, distractions and divisions
We know how to separate and disuse
We get fat
Get stupid
Get ignorant
Because we are always avoiding learning new things
Because we are always avoiding doing new things

We can always count on apathy
Count on insanity
Count on selfish predators
(I count on my fingers)
We are distinguished by days and nights
Sight and blindness
(Darkness and light always fight in my eyelids)
Gaping holes in our consciousness filled by a noise God
Ipod, Mobi, Zune, Zen
The bodies of men and women in personalized separation,
Masturbation in rubberized safety
Girls and boys and both and neither
Hard sex, soft sex, group sex, toy sex
Cheques honored. Se habla espanol.

Vacating seats
Vacation packages
Ravages of sugar highs
Prozac lows
All you can eat buffets
Breasts and backsides
Workouts and backslides
Sweat and cold misery

Trains are synchronized to arrive at once
But thighs are dancing in random pain
Periods are flowing
Commas are pausing
Causing and deflecting rejecting
The sanctity of grammatical correctness

Undress in layers before your prayers
Before the underwear is gone
Before nakedness and goose flesh
Are crushed in the hot oblivion
Living behind curtains
Behind walls
We lurk here looking for safety
And there is none to be had
Not even in the sad unions
Retreating and advancing
Swelling skin and sagging minds

Pain is the only educator
The perverter
The creator and destroyer
The hurt is cruel but effective
Reflective of some plan to guide us through the dip and race
To shear us in the heat and leave us in the cold
Our dags building in the season of neglect
It starts to get old as we get old

And so the boxcar shudders and twists
And we are tempted to fall
Tempted to exit,
Rolling to the ground and walking the rest of the way
We are always one step from disaster
Faster and blinder than our master
With no plan to bind us
No pastor to find us
Just one and alone by the sliding doors.