It's a Self-Taught Disposition

Ambient thoughts
Criss cross
They all collied on the back-wash tide of my brain
Yeah, I'm still sane
But I'm waiting for the day
When I'll finally be able
To rid myself of these stains.

Can you...would you...
Feel this beating peice of metal
It circulates chrom through my vestels
I inhale confessions
I don't even think twice
About it--
How life will fuck you thousands of times...

That's a lie.

Sometimes I dream wide awake
And I feel my muscles ache,
To be rid of these conscieous chains
These proverbial irritations, recreations
And elivate.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, after I posted the last entry, that night I told Kim what had gone down, and what I'd become known to. She was slightly embarrassed, as expected, but she complied that it was nothing against me, and that it wouldn't happen again. Uh huh.

You know what I'm waiting for? When I can touch down unto the beautiful sandstone continent and hear the buzz of digeridoos. When I can pop a cap off of a cider bottle and not think twice about walking in daylight. Smiling at the people I walk past and knowing that they won't avoid eye contact at all cost, and acknowledge the fact that yes, I am a person, just as they. I'm waiting until I can finally look over the dock, into the beautiful glimmering teal of Sydney Harbour and stare at the crabs finger along the coral, so slowly, and whisper to them "I know why you're dancing." Until I can stand at the shoreline, my arms outstretched, gazing into the glorious beyond of something so much larger than myself, running thousands and thousands of miles just to touch my feet. Until I feel the sand tickling between my toes as the water sucks it from beneath my feet. Until I finally go home.