(Letters to my brothers and others) March 2005 to May 2007. |
8-9-05 The sun rises over the front of the house, each day fading the name off my mailbox and peeling into the open air. My calling, surrounded by trees, cars, books, and lives, isn't noticing through partaking but science through english and math through evolution, a business of having with nothing. A school of thought funded by recklessness and danger, and of knowing better by saying less. I train by watching the world destroy itselves one way at a time. An existing death by fracture fueled by a society unpure with love for pain undivided save for decadence and delusion. Illiterate to civility, its soldiers march triumphantly to pre-dug graves that rest their ancestors clutching to whatever's left to the ills they passed on. This is my house as the sun passes over and begins to fade my blacktopped backyard into sand that I will use to cement my name amongst the annals of history's unknown. A son rises, unique in his house on the driveway down the street by passing cars next to the store throughout this town. So becomes he the challenge no one takes; the bet no one wins; the payoff never seen. He is everyman to nobodies and zeroes to people. I am he, for I am myself, seldom bothering and always attacked. Drenched in the agony with sweat of what's to become for my luck has ran out, I retreat within my home- the safest seven inches away from every point on my body and dwell in the greatest peace only I will ever know, right there. |