Some shit I wrote on July 16.14
On a mission for motivation I think of everyone I miss and listen to music that makes me think I’m on the wrong side of living. My bones withering in the grass often slithered and I’m in the gravest need to shed my skin at the risk of biting on poison fruit. I mustn’t become a token stat. But a bushel and bale has burned my barn, left ablaze since straw broke my back. And I cannot move. Or maybe I refuse to budge. My hands are two, but what use when I hold so bold a grudge? I’m a family man, they said. A man of family. Longing to hug a wife and still hang on to sanity when most women I meet are vain. Those who can’t adapt die quickly or alone. I remind myself on my search for Home.
- Bryan 'be.' Espiritu