heretosaveyouall

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i have no story (i am a story)

There is this boy wandering around in the dark
Trouble he isn't looking for anything particular
He is focused on where the light comes through 
The space on the wall between what he believes to be the doorframe or a window
The painting you never drew him & how these things becomes wavering & drift apart

He is dreaming & you are right there growing angry & claustrophobic 
You catch him & catch yourself before he wanders forever into the darkness 
Pull him in like a cat who isn't ready for the outdoors yet
Zip the flaps on the tent & close it

There is this boy who feigns for the music
He fiddles with your guitars
He is breaking down, so he must break things down
It's the voyage to figure out why we are just the way we are
He needs to make music just like you
He watches it calm you when the silence is all he assess he'll ever know
Running far from that place they forced us to call home
Yet every year when the sky drops early he yearns for the snow

With every phone this kid breaks he just wants to be more like you
Disconnected from this reality
Completely removed from those he knew
With every arduous step through the sand he takes
Firmly planting his seed on rainbows & dreams of castles
But will the fate of what it is to be great
Be too great to yield him an answer to all of our mistakes

The man with beard sternly asks
Can you be more specific as to what brought upon these conclusions
Our child is too smart for that so he brought you this mask 
It is the imagination, taught never to deny
It is more adequately put, an illusion
Fueled by song, & speech
Hefty hearts & bodies
He is sorry for the confusion
But if you get em before they get you
The crowd & your parents tend to find you more amusing

He is boy becoming a man
Stuck out in the wilderness
He doesn't know it but that's where he belongs on this summer venture
Stuck in some fever-like mountain winter
The lows become highs when all the sunshine has gone & the moon begs for it's end
Beneath the blood of the sky he finds what he is looking for, he won't stick it out
He follows in late pursuit, with age, a great respect for why you headed south
He fights to be better than any of us has ever been


There is something powerful about my father telling me not to worry
The moment he can see it in my eyes that I don't understand & I may never
The words are deep & are just as easily abandoned like some midwestern quarry 
Dear son
Dear daughter
Like my father gave me
Fairytales & fare-thee-wells 
A life 
A priori
It is bedtime & I am here by your side 
Being only the man I can be
The way he made me

But, I have no story
I am a story about being a story.

Max BarsnessComment