we've spent too long
worrying about each and every
ME and I and SELF

we lost ourselves in the oblivion of wants
the elegy of desire surrounding our
deathbeds (lined with goose-down and velvet)
with sweet hedonistic music

reveling in our newfound freedom
we forged an unbreakable promise

already broken in our minor, collective
imperfections

and now it's all gone
nobody says our country's name
without taking it in vain

insult to itself for greed

and when i look at my life
the things i've done, regretted or rejoiced alike

maybe sorrow is the way
maybe

(
quiet thoughts urging along, like the current of a newfound
stream, saying you will regret this, as you have come to
regret all things since the reckoning of your comforts
you will regret your downfall, perhaps with an under-stated
understanding that it was not (quite) your fault, just your
fault(s) culminating towards a dour and open-faced end

this is the American way, quiet and urging and slowly taking
the idea of freedom to the shore, against the rocks, dashing
hope into flotsam/jetsam because it is (stupid) not ready
)

i miss the things i never knew
i look for things that have never been found
i ask for words that haven't been spoken

and i go to sleep at night to dream about things
that are all too real.

06/09/2007

Posted on 06/09/2007
Copyright © 2025 Corey Lockaby