Backpacker Conversations

I wonder about the shortness of breath, of words and places to visit with much excitement.
wonder if it will return when Im in turn with you, like the song you sent on a lonely Tuesday afternoon.
He tells me of his blues, the hues of which I've seen before in my own past and scored with such ambitious removal and disapproval and yet in circus we agree with the placard placement, for it is so important to make the statement.

(((((((talking to this guy, who left his life, and love, to travel, to find himself, and he was worried he would lose so much. constantly worried, like i was before... both feeling like we knew we were meant to be home, and yet both acknowledging that the trip was the right thing to do.)))))))))))))

They Call Him Crazy

They call him Crazy
He pleads guilty in action, although is not actively aware of the accusation.
So his pleas to the embassy fall on ears, distracted by fears.
We've heard the rumors and humored the haste and his unkempt face.
But with disrespect overlooked the innocence in his voice,
the possibility of pain behind the strangers' choice.
But they call HIM crazy.

I've been called such before, and almost lost myself before ressurection.
Hasn't the best of us, spent time pondering our own recollection?
Wasnt our inner darkness shattered by the surrounding light?
Yet we allow him to stand alone to his astounding fright.

They call him Crazy
He looks on while faces turn to mock, mitigating another mountain.
Those fortresses built high to barricade, from the impending raid.
We're locked out from his artistic bouts, on mute to his glorious flute.
And when we joke about his unsure future, past and present,
we miss the God-sent presents that he has, and we haven't.
but they call HIM crazy.


((((((this is specifically about a man I met at a hostel, who everyone wanted to be kicked out, because he scared them, but because they didnt listen they didnt know anything about him. How much are we missing, labeling people, hiding or supressing them? what gifts could be shared with the world?)))))

Desecration of Endearment

Wraps her gently,
Bound, entangled
pressed and pushed
to further mangle
and she gives in to his
calm and clever words,
biological manipulations
as he further enhances the situation
with lips and pleasant finger tips

stroking neck and hair
she asks if he cares
and he replies with lies
without hint of dishonesty
and later honestly
brags of his player status
as if that is what matters
unhinged while he shatters
her hopes and dreams
thrusts to make her cry
she dont know hes not what he seems
and in the morning he doesnt say goodbye

(((((
this is actually about the first scene in the movie KIDS which is a movie i really like, but hate the content of. I always find myself quite grossed out with the characters and yet sort of tantalized by that lifestyle. I remember setting out to write a screen play in a similar style around 15 and i only got about 8 pages in.
Anyway. The movie is about these new york skater kids, and begins with the lead male talking a young girl in to having sex with him.)))))