Ribmeat Of The Family Tree

no one in here but me outside

8-9-05

The sun rises over the front of the house,
each day fading
the name off my mailbox
and peeling into the open air.
My calling, surrounded
by trees, cars, books, and lives,
isn't noticing through partaking
but science through english
and math through evolution,
a business of having with nothing.
A school of thought
funded by recklessness and danger,
and of knowing better
by saying less.
I train by watching the world
destroy itselves
one way at a time.
An existing death by fracture
fueled by a society unpure
with love for pain undivided
save for decadence and delusion.
Illiterate to civility,
its soldiers march triumphantly
to pre-dug graves
that rest their ancestors
clutching to whatever's left
to the ills they passed on.
This is my house
as the sun passes over
and begins to fade
my blacktopped backyard
into sand that I will use
to cement my name
amongst the annals of history's unknown.
A son rises, unique
in his house
on the driveway
down the street
by passing cars
next to the store
throughout this town.
So becomes he
the challenge no one takes;
the bet no one wins;
the payoff never seen.
He is everyman to nobodies
and zeroes to people.
I am he, for I am myself,
seldom bothering and always attacked.
Drenched in the agony
with sweat of what's to become
for my luck has ran out,
I retreat within my home-
the safest seven inches away
from every point on my body
and dwell
in the greatest peace only I
will ever know, right there.