IV (Ramona, I'm Alive)

Ramona, I’m alive;

and it took one thousand diatribes longer than I imagine miles yonder could be, songs nestled in a world of long forgotten melody.

It took poets I wasn’t, words long winters sun kissed, ideologies bludgeoned and all my dreams bunched up in lined paper balls, learning the rhythms of hitting asphalt over again.

It took battles with irony to unlearn desire, confronting vague truths to become a more adept liar, sterilized expectations to sire artificial optimism, as in I don’t give a flying explicit visual what your miserable dictum states.

Alive with sedated praise for the process; prosperity promised, as powerless as the both of us- its only plus the portrayal of an optimist when we’ve ripped clothes off our backs to shreds.

I suppose that beats being dead, don’t it? Just looking in the rearview, an exit so goddamn near you,

knowing all that
lies back
there is
dread.

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4 thoughts on “IV (Ramona, I'm Alive)

  1. This is very beautiful for some reason the lines “It took poets I wasn’t, words long winters sun kissed, ideologies bludgeoned and all my dreams bunched up in lined paper balls, learning the rhythms of hitting asphalt over again.” really spoke to me an put me in another space. thanks for sharing.

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  2. “It took battles with irony to unlearn desire, confronting vague truths to become a more adept liar, sterilized expectations to sire artificial optimism,” is this the price or result of survival or surrender? and what if you hadn’t? Thank you for this hailstorm. I am disoriented, wondering why we do this to ourselves. But yeah, “I suppose that beats being dead, don’t it?” I think this is my new favourite.

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