Randall Crazyheart's anxiety could be confused with patriotic duty,
But it could never be saved by any valiant force
nor could it dry itself from the lake of his parents divorce
Elusive, quick hitting solicitude can blow through Randall's mind with fair weather ease
Tightened, sharp objects of worry strike blows in each waking minute
Nettled cubicle's spell suicide as in Ginsberg's tale
starch collars posses the acrid smell of routine
and each toe-tagging lover's tag reads,
"Infinite heartbreaks always outlast a lifetime"
The lint disagreed
with his empty love pockets
But the true brain denied access
and the game never ended
Truly, there must exist a panacea, for his weak state
A pill, a woman, a twisted drug filled delirium?
A therapist with laminated papers inside oak carved frames ?
Something for his dislocated disposition, his maligned flash driven thoughts
His bedroom even weeps daily at the sight of young Randall hovering the carpet
drawing pictures of abstract
The windowsill wants to trade rooms, the mattress wants to support a confident body, and the radiator wants more style
Randall bemoans the thought of each object, inanimate or not, wanting to leave his side
wanting to escape the depression driven collision filed on the first of july
Crazyheart, despite all the avoided confrontation, and the ill driven decisions wants to dignify himself
Set himself on his proper gilded track- the art encrusted, youth infused, driven life filled with odd accomplishments
But Life's oddities may strike us humorously- great poems written by poor writers, paintings painted by an athlete, pictures taken by a mathematician
-all fucking the mind to believe the impossibly gorgeous
But Randall saw the light, the proverbial salvation of one-through his art
through creation
through minimization
through study
through self...
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