Monday, May 4, 2009

pretty. static.

Pretty average.
Pretty average hands.
Pretty average hands can.
Pretty average hands can create.
Pretty average hands can create something.

All the so-and-so's
Line up around the block
And here I stand
Just another one of them
But I cut in line
Fashionably late
And under-dressed
Their eyes, full of questions
Fall critically
I'm a counterfeit
A not-so-sorry substitute
Another dot in your Morse code
Another blip on your screen
Full of static
Love the sound of static
How it churns and crackles
Even in static
I find a rhythm
I find a niche
Lulled to sleep
Taken to another place
Where I didn't pay the bills
Didn't sing for my supper
An apple tree and three channels
The rest was static



Of handshakes and heartbreak. © 2008. Design By: SkinCorner