Twisted

Mar. 20th, 2008 at 11:51 PM

The cracks in my skin are showing through every day, more and more. I'm loosing the grace of my innocent youth. Like I ever had one to begin with. But at least I could wrap myself in the warm blanket of vanity, and loose myself in the baby faced appearance I sported once. One that didn't so easily reveal my age, a calculation not charted by the chronological passage of years, but an algorithm of pain and trauma. The skin, bearing tale tell wrinkles and pock marks bears testament to the fact that I have damaged my body into its present condition, through all of my vices.The smoke does its best to weather my skin, by the time I am 50 my face will resemble a baseball glove, weathered with deep fissures and feathering patches. The insomnia takes its toll, leaving my eyes bloated and bruised. My cheeks sunken, accentuating the passage of time. And I can't help but drink to drown out the echoes of xerox machines and industrial printers. Sex leaves my body as bruised and battered as it feels, sporting the twin crescents of my lover's jaws. And the scratches don't fade for days, blood drawn to the surface by wild cat claws. I am speeding, through life, trying to drown out the monotony with a fresh rash of sins the next day. The only time that I feel like I am going anywhere is when I'm speeding in my car. The wind whips the cigarette ashes out the windows and my blown speakers pump the mixes she left me. I race the curving streets lining the creek and hugging the canyon's edge of skyline drive. Leaving the roads ragged with the tattoos my tires leave on the asphalt, I am screaming along to songs I forgot to love earlier in my life. Like the poetic tangled limbs of trees I freeze in black & white film, I am twisted and dark. The cracks in their bark hide the age rings inside, and the sap they bleed traps unsuspecting insects in glowing firey amber tones. Their age brings them a majestic grizzled beauty, the kind I can only hope will await my tired frame someday. That is, if I survive one more night tearing past their gnarled roots, the red glow of my taillights staining the night air.