I slipped into a river last night
My hair was wet
My clothes were soaked through
Bramble hooked into the current
Water sopped down my back
My head lopping heavily
Some dreams just keep going
Waking up is only slipping into the same river
Never, never drink plum brandy
That’s been sitting unscrewed in a bottom cabinet
Since the holidays
If you’re that desperate for a good time
Go find one
I don’t want to be the only one climbing the mountain. You need to have your pick axe out too. It’s practically freezing up here sometimes and I worry that one of these days you’ll carve a ledge for yourself and build a fire and a fort and a whole home. You’ll want to stay there. Halfway up. Halfway down. No more climbing.
In the brown of Bakersfield farms
Where the desert is the freeway
Desperation took to its feet
Kicked the 5 to dust
The windows blistered
From the anxiety inside
Because unemployment doesn’t create anything else
On the highway, desperation grew into even more
It was discovered that shame has a physical form
And it’s furious
There’s so much to cry about
I’ve decided to join the tar pits
So my sadness can be immortalized
With the dinosaurs
I’m just so full of tears
Like a trillion bath bubbles for my eyes
And ouch
I’d rather sit in mud and become a statue
Besides wooly mammoths are probably warm
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