the benefit of the abrasive

“a man’s own head is his own town” well you’re goddamn right i uncovered that as it dripped down the millions of trees into only my hands as if it were meant for nobody else. i mean nowhere is a proper place for nobody and nowhere should death be kept out of the papers. i know of a township where that has always been done. when i finally got over the trees i fell in love with the sky beyond into eternal space. no ceilings fences passcoded gates. without borders orbits. i know of a village where that has never been done. i was only asked to consider my limits. it is a tricky thing when lost in the forest a man can say “i am full. my spirit is a shaft as tall as those very trees.” but when left to the lessons of horizon and depth in a global sky a man can stare for god knows how long and desperately try to fill the blackness of space with his spirit or appreciate the untainted blue spill that has survived absorption by the cotton of cloud in my town i will always be free. in my town i stand brilliant witness to a life not contained capped or yet fully realized not spent on all fours crawling through the air ducts lost within another man’s system. what do they get from their greed how to they manage to maintain it despite its sterile horrors? this is a new type of degenerate that can justify selling off his own children to polish the many skins of his slutty wife. i know of a world where these men are just waiting to die in my town they already have. the summer months to come bring conflict. i beg the sun to boil the rains before they can fall on those trees and nourish the nature that masks suburban decay. behind bulletproof glass comfort even a snake could feel like a stoolie i feel a gun pointed at me i am not afraid of being shot because i know of a town that will build walls between anything and fences around everything i grew my roots in their company. this modern town born of a government grant with people’s money. the great forest was the people’s forest and the capitalist scar they cut into it is theirs as well. sometimes the most dead are counted among the living so listen up soldier boys it is your duty to study very diligently the reason for your fight is it what you feel could eventually be an honorable death. only in exceptional circumstance can glory come of murder displacement or other forms of turning flesh into fiction. examine the forces that shape all your landscapes and what becomes of opposing forces amongst the trees. their voice cannot be heard or recorded. remember the stories of the generation that only had the red scared into them or the bulletized faces on statues in landfills land filled with the people’s trash yes but also the people’s hopes and other things they had not intended to discard.