dreams of an architect

the city was pretty last night. underneath the eclipsed moon.

and i spent many minutes with a genius.

everything seemed unreal. even the blowings of the wind. even the dark lights that lit up the back streets.

i sat at the most magnificent place, gazing down at what could be somebodys home. down at ashtrays and plastic chairs. and different architects dreams of a fire escape.

and he was there. and i was quiet.

pass the joint.

the moon was full, and kept distracting my thinking. thoughts pouring out of my mind with the smoke. i should have let it out in words. should have said something.

but i guess im just the shyest person you'll ever meet.

go up to the APT, where rad people all sit around and waste themselves in front of bright television screens.

little bits of genius could be found there. i was easily lost in the book of blues and crayola's. an occasional glance at the person that makes it real, was enough to keep my mind ticking.

i guess im just a difficult person, really. so many thoughts and dreams i keep locked in my head, afraid to let them out. afraid of who might interpret them the wrong way.

i've gone too fast before, i've thrown my ideas and imagination out to people who just stomp on it and ball it up. maybe that's my problem.

its snowing now. and the sun is shining. and it's warm. and i am really horribly confused, in a good way, because i'm smiling.

i just hope it all dosen't turn out like

locks

on

doors.