Plastic Houses And Blue Branches July 2011
You’ve got these tiny plastic houses all lined up in a row
As if red and green boxes mean everything
But I don’t really think so
See, this is not Boardwalk or Park Place
These are the railroads located in Shit Town USA and that’s on a good day
Defiantly I carry around my canned peas in a beat up backpack
It’s gotten warped by rain over time and has broken zippers
But it’s been loyal to me so I keep it close and loaded
And I try to act tough, like I don’t feel anything on the inside
Like I don’t need to paint or write to breathe
I come off as controlled and numb but it’s the opposite
You can take me to school at this game of life three days out of seven maybe
But I am not some cut out figurine and certainly not a monopoly
I am fortunately unique
There’s iridescent purple duct tape on my crutch cuffs
Blisters on my palm and thumb
Forgive me as I spill out the contents of my can onto your precious board for review
Your scrutiny doesn’t really bother me because I’m leaving anyway
I’m already out your door into the street and dreaming of better things
You’re wasting your time yelling at me saying I’m a moronI’m not listening
There’s too much on my mind
Too much to forget
I’m floating above the ground
I’ m dragging in the sky by my head
I’m not dead, so let go of my hair and stop staring
It’s natural for me to land back where I stand
No, I’m not a cat, it’s called astro-projection It’s out of my hands
I’ve come down back to the land of the living
Thanks to the awful truth and people like you
And now I’m sinking in dread
I should of learned to smoke to release some stress
But I guess I’ll have to settle for the usual suspect
My medication is a cup of coffee
So I’ll let it go for now because I’m home
Drop my bag on the floor
Walk over to the refrigerator Cross off canned peas from the list
I was climbing blue branches and eating plastic houses today
But I’ve never enjoyed being kissed
My imagination’s either a waste or a wellI really can’t tell
