I Call This: "Smoke Rings to the Moon".

Feeling awake and trembling in this air conditioned apartment that I call home, walk outside hanging myself over the wood structure that is the porch blowing smoke rings to the moon as I feel the wind blow through my ears and out my eyes, watching my neighbors fighting across the way, their fists raised high and their voices even higher, the time hits 3 am as I rhyme in my head as feel bumbs rise on my legs and arms, thinking that this is finally my life to live and how I live it is the business of me and me only and whether or not someone knows how my life is lived doesn't mean that they can go and make it a business of their own for the copywrite would be to hard to waive seeing that the sources of these rhymes are not ones of consiquence but of past recollections and waves of clouds floating by like the smoke rings that I blow through my oval mouth to meet the moon which is about lie it's cold head down behind the horizon and let the sun take its turn to beat down on fair skin and heavy heart but only those who can find the rhyme would think that I couldn't see what was really happening with this controlled life that I live and forget themselves that they also live a controlled life and can't not resume living until they realize that all of this shit of corporate america and politics is just a riot reducer that lets society take a calm place in our priorities as people and as a community but how can there be a community in a place where people are people who are afraid and angry even when they walk the streets early in the morning when they go to the tag office, grocery store, or even to their own house? Friends, this isn't a wake up call and this certainly isn't said to make you get your own shit together but why make a major in one thing when you can minor in many? Find your own niche and live the life that you want without a controlled substance in your veins or the chains of someone who thinks that this would be better for you when you know you can think and decide for yourself because even when blowing smoke rings into the moon, they will eventually disappear like your life slipping through your fingers as you sit at a cubical with a headset over your ears so you can't hear the sounds of a brick wall being built in the place of your path. We were ment to wander, to love, to survive in our own concrete jungle of disease and wealth when everyone else has been taken in like the sand that holds these cities together but you could find someone to lay in your arms under the blankets of safety and comfort as you decide what you will do with your life, one day at a time, don't overwhelm yourself and present yourself with some sort of future plan because plans change, my friends, and others get destroyed when they can't control their own pathes of commerce and superficial love for one another when they can't even find mercy for themselves. Forgiviness and patience is how you get by without a scratch or a scar on your body but perhaps all those are hidden behind your flesh and tendons. Sitting now taking a drag and feeling my muscles relax and the knots unravel from all of the hurt that I put my own body through pushing it till only enertia is what is keeping me moving and knowing that my life hasn't ended is what keeps a smile on my face as I watch all the others follow their lines to their own dead ends.