CONCRETE

Concrete
PM 1301203

I have lost sight of myself

until I realize that I have not

even moved from the scene of

my last destruction.

I move away from the action

but magnetized, I am always

drawn back until I am sitting

back on the wall, waiting to fall

off. I look for patches of

grass or soft dirt that will

hopefully pad my fall.

But I am always perched above

concrete, and I fear cracking

my head open on the cement.

I come back into my own view

when it is just too late to

stop myself from coming into contact

with the ground,

and I am helpless,

even to pick up the pieces,

there are too many and there is

not enough time to do a proper job.

Therefore I must leave myself lying

there and set up on starting all over

again which becomes more and more

difficult as the years go by.

As I move away I can't help

but look back to see if the buzzards

have begun to feed yet and I am

always shocked anew to see one

of them plucking out one of my

eyeballs and swallowing it whole.

Why couldn't I have worn sunglasses,

is always what pops into my mind

first, never why did I screw it all

up in the first place.

The heartbeats become so

strange and intermittent,

that I'm not even sure if it is my

own heart I hear beating anymore.

Only when I feel the pressure and

the pain do I realize that it is

emanating from my chest and I am

the one who is in trouble.

The traffic in the background is drowned

out by the chirping of crickets,

I smell Kung Pow,

Chinatown beckons me and I

am unable to sell any of my organs

as they are still splattered all over the

sidewalk.

The crickets chirp as I make my way

through the dark alleyways until

I reach my goal, I reach the bottom

to rest, only from there can I begin

the journey back up to the summit,

a place I have never managed to reach and I

always fear one of these times I won't

have that energy to start over.

MCC