Currently Listening Highly Refined Pirates By Minus the Bear see related

and now that it's gone,
it's like it wasn't there at all.

Currently Listening In the Aeroplane Over the Sea By Neutral Milk Hotel see related

we are the shovels that dig our ditch.

Currently Listening A New Day at Midnight By David Gray see related

          there is a room in this house with walls now covered in frames. i don't go in the room; i see it when the ghost who stays there leaves the door open. 
          ironic how i've wanted my walls that way since i was a kid, but was denied permission. dad said when i left, he didn't want to be left covering the holes and repainting over the filler. 

          the ghost has been here 10 months.
          i have been here 16 years.

          the resident is very sentimental. anything that has shifted the ghosts woeful life for the better has always been given a fierce love in return. it is on display; most of the world knows who these soulmates are. those who don't can just look at the walls.

          nothing in the frames represents this house
          nothing in the frames represents the people in this house

          funny how that works

          when i have moved out, i will pay regular visits back to my parents who have given me things i need. when the ghost leaves, such repayment is doubtful for the two people who have been suppliers. as are holiday cards. or calls to say Hey. How have you been.

when the digital clock hit midnight i wished the girl in the passenger seat a happy birthday. she giggled through a  thank you and promised to buy me her first legal beer. i said i don't like alcohol. she said she didn't care.

lights cut through night
along 5 hours of road and field
i was getting farther and closer to home

i was introduced to a young man whose life consists of breaking his back six days a week in exchange for one of rest. we talked about the city that had sand in the air. he said he didn't like it. i said i pretended not to. you don't decide what becomes a part of you.

clouds shifted and water poured
along 5 hours of road and field
i had gone farther and closer to home

the new adult slept as my view outside slid from black to blue. low noise from speakers kept me company as minutes turned, and painted lines on concrete led me to a familiar driveway. i have, for at least a few hours, felt what it's like to be new.