he was riding horses - and making it look kinda freaky - i was sitting in the grass, smoking a beer back like it was summer - i was thinking about the first man to ever try and ride a horse - his friends must've been laughing - his friends must've been thinking, what the fuck is he doing? - but im here, in the grass, thinking of that guy - trying to be him - a nice balance somewhere in the midst of funny, entertaining, fun and showing off - who was it who said i seek, but i don't seek attention? - it's easy - to be a good friend is easy - make everyone feel as though they have your attention - never answer your mobile phone when you are talking to someone
sometime the bugs leave us be, and we can sit in the grass for hours - drifting in and out of a cloudy sleep - an island off iceland, where the grass is mounded softer than a sixty-dollar pillow - no bugs, no bites - she red as i listened to midnight fall across america - boats floated by, flying between the clouds of my afternoon-dreams - whites against white, with the yellow daytime fading like the photographs our grandchildren will show their younglings and describe us by means of occupations
there is no uglier word than occupation - we're living in a world where people go to awful lengths to occupy their time - it's as though they're trying to get it over with - i will never understand the guilt people try to shift onto each other for living a good life - one day i'll sleep in, and sleep in my clothes on the couch - wake up at three pee-em and open a beer with my first movements - i'll sit on the couch and watch the footy and watch my favourite movies eating nachos and drinking more beer - i'll write pretentious poetry and walk around the lake, drinking more beer - i'll kiss my girlfriend in front of friends,and i'll pat them on the back and buy them some beers and listen to their versions of life on earth - i'll stay up late listening to music and throw myself to each corner of the universe - i'll be happy - i'll be sad - i'll be miserable and depressed for no reason - and i'll be high on realising tiny little truths that i've missed so often up until now - i'll drink and write and listen to music till im droopy and hazy eyed behind a locked door - and then i'll tiptoe to bed, popping pillows and swimming in deep heavy blankets - sleeping easy and haunted by the most spectacular lucid dreams - and i'll have no guilt and i'll do it all again and i'll encourage my friends to do the same - there is no guilt behind doing what you want to do, only the fears of others trying to project it onto you - you feel guilt the same way you feel abused - it takes second party, and it's not your fault
i pick a blade of grass and hold it between two fingers - i watch it with my eyes - the small winds move it a little, in synch with the million other blades of grass that surround me - i imagine myself as a blade of grass and connect with the universe and until next time, i'll remain here - this way
floating backwards, flipping inside out of life and death - an eternity beyond the limits of human consciousness and my desire to finally be there now - i let go of the echos and melt into the source and centre of existence, ready to meet the moment that caused one
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