life with the blinds down

greater men have fallen ‘neath the weight of your worlds,
so young,
so artful,
naïve,
in your protests against the newest slice of life you don’t want to find,
the paintings you don’t want to see,
feathers swooping down your face with the tears of everyone you’ve ever forgotten.
i love how you think you can’t speak your mind while you kill the souls of the new lennons,
the kerouacs,
the revolutionaries.
i lie here,
thinking about bobby dylan and wondering what he’d say if he met a guy like you,
with your saccharine smile and vindicated lips,
talkin’ bout a revolution like you know what’s going on.
i think about patti smith,
how she’d tear down your walls just like she tore down mine and everyone else’s.
you’re funny in how you’re so serious.
i love taking down your pictures ‘cause it makes me feel powerful and ‘cause i know you like burning mine.
we’re so cute when we’re together,
actin’ like we don’t know where it’s at,
but,
sometimes,
i think you really don’t.