they say the eyes are the windows of the soul. vision is a funny thing. once you see, you can never unsee. high above on this catwalk we call the 21st century, i tread slowly, carefully, eyes duct taped shut. drugs could not close them, booze could not close them. shopping could not close them. sex could not close them.
sometimes i cry when i smile and sometimes i smile when im crying. we weep what we sow. freefall is a funny thing. these thoughts of home that float by. these thoughts of old friends and shoes and italian ceramics. these funny and foolish things that make us what we are. flowers in a garden of our own making.
the soil can be wet with rain, tears, piss or blood. or the soil can be bone dry from drought, war, lonliness or apathy. its all an accident of birth, where we land on this map and yet, in the final analysis, its our garden, isnt it?