Hold on to your treasure, tightly.
Secure it and put it on trial, litigate for and against your treasure,
Bind it’s legs and arms,
It will fight like a champion, but you’ll secure it.
And you can try and carry it back to your colony,
back to the church service and everyone is waiting for a baptism and everyone is dressed in pinks and greens and yellows.
Roll the stone away, you will need to wait your turn.
Roll the stone away and be careful not to get any dirt on your pants.
Don’t ask me or any of the watching animals with flashlight eyes to help.
Our faces will tell you all you need to know;
Our hands are tied and we are busy learning about what makes up a waterfall.
There are instruction manuals for that kind of thing,
you should know, you wrote most of them.
The clock is ticking slower now, it must be running out of batteries,
Don’t worry I left some in the nightstand I think,
they may or may not be dead,,,,,
you may or may not be dead,,,,
Leave them in the nightstand,
trap the lighting and the thunder in there too, if you can.
The clock is practically saying nothing now,
Next to boisterous masks and other important pictures that never got their place in the sun,
although they had some pretty great speaking parts,
I loved that one where everyone was over weekend drinking wine and laughing
Your treasure is what is important here,
Your soft treasure feels like a heart, and it’s beating rapidly
Sink your teeth into it, like a vampire,
(like a parasite)
and leave it behind,
(unlike a parasite)
but after you do you must get out of sight,
hideaway for the night,
hideaway from the night.
Morning will break and you’ll be better for it.
Stretch your arms out across the universe and remember your treasure,
remember where you left it to die.
It will still be there, like the rest of them,
the rest of everything, the treasures and the tombstones and the autographs, and the car wash tokens, the laundry all over the floor.
It is especially hard to differentiate the quarters from all the car wash tokens.
They all end up in the same place anyways,
plastered in newspapers and written in the sky and under vending machines,
take it with you over the hills,
in broad daylight let them see you carrying your treasure with long legs like springs and the sun breaking on your back,
they will know you are the champion.
They will see you sidestepping landmines and broken lightbulbs to get to the coast,
to get to the edge and peek over, throw a stone down there and see if you hear it drop.
You have made it to the high dive,
and you wont even hesitate,
even with everyone watching,
and you’ll break into a swim,
leaving the cities behind,
leaving the fanfare behind,
leaving a trail of blood behind.
It is here you’ll become young again, spraying water from your mouth like a dolphin,
spray it into the face of your treasure and it will open its eyes,
if only slightly and know that it is safe.
Talk to your treasure as you float on your back,
talk to your treasure as you begin to sink,
you are sinking because of your treasure,
the label didn’t say anything about that though,
and there were plenty of spelling errors, too.
But you knew how heavy that treasure was,
your back is sore from it, and the water in which you sink lets you forget that,
as you descend, slowly like a jellyfish,
slower then your used to,
You are leaving your spine and your halo and your wings behind,
your luggage too,
and the airbags never even deployed.
Your treasure is already out of sight, probably resting somewhere at the bottom,
waiting for you, with it’s elbows on the table,
waiting for you to blow out the candles,
waiting for a head on collision.