To the East: A Concluded Trilogy

Blessed are the hearts that can bend.
Bend the hearts that are Blessed
Blessed are the hearts that can bend.
I'd say Cursed are these hearts-

It was Wednesday, the one before Thanksgiving, as I decided which exit to take off i80, radio blaring, other cars staring
I concluded on that damp night- that these dirty Nike shoes were longing ot stray all over the damn world. When I told her this days later I could feel her eyes burn a beautiful shade of rock n' roll, and you could see them if she would just take off those sunglasses- the ones you said looked so good. And we sat on the most beautiful set of stairs, rain soaked and nervous.
As she and me held hands interlocked with uneven tips, black paint stripped, adn knuckles chipped, She kicked and screamed, mad about all she had- sad for what she should and could never be,
but it sounded to me like destiny.

A small few long blocks East

As the sun lazily arose over the asylum, slowly conjuring colors subtly arounsing eyes, i realized it wasnt nearly or severely as amazing as watching her smoke the pack's last cigarette.

Blessed are the hearts that can bend.
Bend the hearts that are Blessed
Blessed are the hearts that can bend.
I'd say Cursed are these hearts-

A moment is the most you can ever expect from perfection
But goddamn, Luck musta gone and cashed my chips in,
Spent the money to get perfection drunk, thus preventing perfection's premature ending
This earned me a whole day, for one single day something beautiful was mine,
Somewhere far off my stars musta been in line
because I had it all for just a days time

for every cold block walked and bus seat warmed,
for every breath held back and smile turned laugh,
every mile run and every single push up done,

As if God hissef had seen fit
to let my teeth see the Louisvilel sun
GEE MA' look what I done!
I smiled and really meant it.

Inspired with all the guster there was to muster from brass horns and huge bass drums proud chords and baritone hums. I turned to the East and called your name, seven minutes and eleven:eleven second of truth resonating through raspy lungs. When the music stopped and the echo came to an end,

all I got in return was silence.

The day passed by just that fast.
the way a cigarette burns in fall wind
the smoke dissapears before its taken in
Eternal hesitation's product is silence, Once distilled whats left was compliance,
served cold weekly on Saturday nights with peanuts and a double whisky sour twice an hour.

Blessed are the hearts that can bend.
Bend the hearts that are Blessed
Blessed are the hearts that can bend.
I'd say Cursed are these hearts-

Shortly thereafter, when I had returned from all I had learned, on a midnight cruising of the same freeway where three greed learned the knead speed that release seed, I turned to the East once more, inhaled and inspired- flexed eyes, coerced the lids down and rejected lies.
I shouted out to wake the sun, revved the engine, let go of the wheel, stomped the gas and drove straigh at 'im.

And when my eyes opened you'd of thought i stared him dead in the eye but I looked right into his predictable heart, the proud and relentless rise quietly drowned by a somber and unnoticed fall, a fate which he cares little at all.

He'll be back, and I'll drive on
Together we'll rise against.

Because me and the sun,
We're the blessed ones.

-Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken-