shape

Story book enlightenment. Black and white pictures hung uncentered on the fleshy galleries of the soul. Moving to the silent vibrations of the universe, as if the stars were covering a Leonard Cohen song and only I can hear them singing low and deep across the vacant reaches of dark crystal space.
I'm need some kind of escape. I've been looking for you for two forevers and the only rocks I haven't turned in my pursuits are just too big for me to lift by myself. I need your help but your stuck under that rock. Maybe I can rent a crane. I don't know.
I've been back and forth across America more times than I can count and I haven't found a thing, except some good pot on the west coast and some pick up drinking buddies in the same town they seem to carbon copy for each state. Everywhere I go has the same strip mall with the same McDonalds across the street and the same magazines in the same Borders Bookstores that are always next to a Bed Bath and Beyond or a Circuit City. Everywhere I meet the same people who change their names and identifying features constantly to confuse me. I hear the same stories, sit in the same living rooms and sleep on the same couches.
Someone once told me I was running away from something and it suddenly struck me that I might be running away from myself. The worst part is, no matter where I run, there I am.