Listless song

A locust's life is singing. 2pm to 3pm to 5pm. Into the evening
their off-harmony droning fills my head and heart and I am simply here.
Breathing. Heavy. I need to quit smoking. The thoughts in my head
constantly bother me.
I watch a friend full of scars escape in the sky of the afternoon as it
burns down to evening.
I burn a cigarette down.
I'm tired of moving.
He escapes. Farther into the blue. Or perhaps bringing it towards
him.
I am tired of moving. Locusts croon.

A Monday and I lay in the grass. A Monday and I think maybe I am tired
of life. Too many worries, fears and dangers. I will accomplish
nothing.
I have no vision, only blurs of light,
obscured by poor sight.
All I want is to make noise and call it music. To sing all day and see
the way it makes you feel.
He escapes. His girlfriend will leave him soon. I know this. He does
not.

I bounced a check last week I have thirty-six cents and I wish I were
dreaming. Probably something stupid about eating acid. Or feeding
mutant koalas.
I close my eyes and see red patterns. I wonder about the color red and
the birds overhead as I still lay catatonic-style in the grass.
Mosquitoes infest my skin but I don't really notice.
A human's life is relentless. I am overwhelmed and ill prepared at
times.
I burn down a cigarette.
Everything seems unbearable and I feel weak. Limbs weightless but
remain stationary. The brain parades and pokes fun at my memory. Images
all skewed. Half true.
What happened last Tuesday?
(cars roll by)
who cares, who cares.
Another hour more cigarettes no movement. People leave the park.
Locusts croon. The lake stops, stagnant. Locusts croon. My stomach
wants me to vomit but something seems right.
Sun sets.
Blue-black starry night covers what I didn't want to look at
anyway.
He sinks into the scenery.
I cling to grass.
Eyes sealed shut to witness blooms of red my heart swells with
sound.
Nothing's around.
Human life has gone back to the city.
The locusts sing. And so do I.