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Driven

Swisher sweets line the streets 

crinkling these days 

Cool air brushes sunset over lost ways 

I hear music, and bruises, and a gathering out loud 

but I'm walking 

and I'll never get there anyhow 

 

I am 

noticing the way the pavement meets the brush 

It's a rush of cracks and roughness running into green fluff 

I think that good lives 

make a beautiful place 

but I'm walking 

in the middle of the race 

 

I keep falling asleep with my clothes on 

and waking up to a well lit but very dark morn 

I am shirking responsibilities closing doors and slamming shutters 

appealing to the lowest sensibilities 

and feeling proud for moving clutter 

I know that this world requires cars 

instead of shoes 

but I'm walking 

and I have no idea what is true 

 

With a firm grasp on what is believed though 

it’s easy to know 

that the middle class show 

is a heart bled on all of my sleeves  

So that 

forward in the passing of time 

it moves on 

How are we supposed to catch up 

to smooth lawns 

and when is it that never enough's a coupon 

for breathing out your dreams in a puff 

to prove wrong 

I'm not rolling, stoner 

there's enough moss already 

cause I'm walking 

alone and my heartbeat is steady 

I am feeling 

aloof 

While the future is dreaded 

and my heart is 

misused 

but my eyebrows are threaded 

With doll hairs 

and small cares 

and supreme disbelief 

At all of these malls here 

but not on this street 

Not hawking this wares 

Not caring to dare 

If you feel this beat  

you just might disappear 

You just might need some air 

You just might have stopped caring 

or you're too self-aware 

cause you are walking 

Because you're obviously unwilling or unable to pay fares 

 

But I say hold the glare and let the mirror stare 

It's not enough to be happy 

when you're breathing scared 

Now you should hold it in 

Now you should tell a friend 

Now you should call up all your parents 

asking why you and why them 

Look for the savior in the moment 

when you are brave enough to own 

the way control has taken over 

Your control is a component 

but the crowd controls the picture 

Dirty feet to dirty dishes 

you can wash them if you wishes 

but swisher sweets leave sweeter kisses  

I think 

 

We're told that at the end 

it all comes down to drive 

and the willingness to light your ass on fire 

running backwards to arrive 

I'm sure they're right 

but I can't stop walking

and I keep breathing smoke out in my sighs

Red on White

poem 245