halfjack

i am cast out by him into the cold. the wind blows through everything. the snow offers some solace, enough to soothe my anger. but not dull my pain. i walk and walk through it and as my fingers begin to numb and move slower and cars are passing without sympathy i am feeling slightly nostalgic for times when i was literally, and not just feeling metaphorically, homeless.
the wind is coming from all directions and nothing seems to offer any shelter. it just seems to blow right through everything.
there is a dead doe on the sidewalk. at first i only see the dark mass ahead, and then it is a body. then an animal. then a big dead animal. then a dead doe. i can't say what it had died from. there was no visible damge to the tissue. so who plucked it up and shook it to see what was inside? it lay there, on it's side, its front two feet together, and likewise it's back. almost poised in a pose of grace. except on its side. its eyes neither intense nor bored nor afraid. just directed. i stared a bit longer and pondered the signifigance of the dear considering what had just happened.
the number nine southbound is not coming. my ass is cold so i put an extra newspaper between the bench and my ass and it doesn't really help. i try to take my mind off it by smoking and reading the city paper but my ass is still cold and the fucking number nine isn't coming and why is everyone staring at me? what is so much more fascinating about a cold poor white kid than the 6 other cold poor black folk? i am not afraid, or hateful, i am just cold and inside me things are stirring. it starts in my head and moves to my heart and continues.
the wind is blowing through the bus shelter and into me now. i feel the breeze travel through my bones and i am filled with only air and bones and the musicle and tendons and ligaments to move. i thank the wind, because otherwise i don't know how the hell i'm writing this right now without it. something is moving me forward, through the motions.
the wind passes through everything. the wind passed through me. soon i will pass through walls and borders and states of mind.

if you feel a chill, it's just me passing by. i used to be warmer. i used to move slower. now i am subject to more. not anchored. free to fly through every pretty girls hair and the sea and religion. i will pass by, circle back, and pass through you. shiver, smile, and thank the wind




in short,

edited to add: this is not a silly emo post. nor does it have anything to do with Morgan. last night just really, really sucked. and was surreal. i sat down to talk about it and bad poetry is all that came out