Blue Grama Grass

How to break an addiction. Decide to live. What can I learn from my pain. Danger. And friends are merely friendly, live on independent of your injury. You will not be missed in church on Sunday. Grass. Weed, broccoli, burrito, stink, pot, skunk. I'm talking blue grama, upland bent, smooth brome, riverside panic, wild rye, fowl meadow, spike muhly, sweet vernal, salt marsh, bristly foxtail, little bluestem. Reefer is unhealthy, opens lesions in the brain, wormholes into hell, yet should be legal. I'll vote that way. It may ease the pathos into non-existence well as meditation, bird watching, last will and testament. Each joint hurts, rib joints, spine joints, skull plate joints. The head and hip and heart will hurt, all three. Insomniac I like the way bones crack and clack like wooden wind chimes, an untuned piano, a tree rack of wornout shoes. Never forget, the mind is the body paying attention to what it's doing. Without that connection, each finger bent or toe smashed is just added to the collection of anonymous body parts of holocaust victims in their mass graves. Better when every life saved or lost is a front page story, an illusion of shared sacrifice or joy, but that expresses only the surface of our emotions. I'm mostly relieved to have survived.