(I've Been Torturing Dandelions En Masse)

I’ve been trying to live a little more.
To forget that there were people once
Where there’s absence now.
I’ve been trying to forget to write a lot
And to appreciate dark scenic mountain-lakes.

I’ve been trying to place tambourines
behind the second verse.
And to be content with the sunstruck concrete
And sunburnt grass of honeyed community pools.

I’ve been trying to imagine happiness without hardwood floors.

I’ve been trying to drag out my sentences, and repeat the chorus
At least three times.
I’ve been stepping out of sync with the wind.

I’ve been trying to capture the sudden startled surrealistic rising of the flickering floundering lights at four-thirty in the morning, blinking in unison with your eyes until they blur from watching and the city becomes a wave, pulled by the tides of its own pollution, washing towards you like flash fires. Stained. I’ve been trying to remember, I have never before heard birds sing in colour.

I am trying to lose my rhythm I’ve been trying to lose my mind, but I keep coming back to Sex-and-L’Unité Nationale.
Where am I going?

I’ve been trying to say “I am going to die” without feeling as if I am going to die.
I’ve been trying to find a place.

I’ve been trying to find the singled moments
Who always come alone.
I’ve been trying to find redundancy
Among the lost-est tone.
I’ve been trying to lie when I say I am lying
I’m-Really-Not-Trying
I’m barely complying,
I don’t mind this place,
But I’m-Really-Not-Trying
At-All
At-All
At-All.