Contrarian
<< 10:13 p.m. - Monday, Nov. 17, 2003 >>
Now let it rain.

Look to the east
Look to the west
Look to the ground beneath your feet
Look to skies
Look to skies above
And there ain't nothin' in this land
That you will ever understand
There ain't nothin'
You're ever gonna be sure of.

'Cus it was rainin' this mornin'
It was rainin' this mornin'
It was rainin' this mornin'
And I feel as low and as lonely as the rain.

-Jeb Loy Nichols

A mile from Kalama River Road train cars cross the tracks in all the wrong way. Red flares in the eve of night. Coals and metal came to a grinding halt, and I flash by in the car of parental tension. Eyes watching me watch them. And I�m sorry. I�m ever regretful, and not even trying to stop that. Words can sting, and shouldn�t I know? Self made fool of my lexis. I had great things to say, but they got lost. They tumbled themselves out of my head when I went running. Feet hitting wet pavement and breath lost in music. Wind guides me to these places I am afraid of. Toward the darker, less lit streets, and toward something unfathomable. I am frightened of� getting lost. Lost in myself. Lost in the new darkeness that hits at 4:30.

Losing touch. Gripping friendship in the dark. Bite and hold tactics. And history lectures come to mind. I�m just wondering how I figure into the scheme of things. When I shall receive? And what I am actaully saying? What am I doing here? I�ve hit a satisfying state of lonliness. Alone. A part of things.

But really, I want someone to tell me where to turn. If you did though, I�d resent you for it, hah.