Motion by Eric Sparks

I’m the tortured genius type;
Hunter Thompson look-a-like, minus the convertible
and dikes. I’m just Sherman Alexie without his history;
I’m a Ken Kesey but I’m missing the mystery. I write
fanciful myths about the kids who never want to grow old;
about the little bastards who did as they were told, but still let
their hearts grow bold and never sold out to the criticisms
of the devil.

My people swallow drugs, but they don’t have hollow chests.

As if we were different from you, we always try our best,
even though it looks different to you. Now we’ve already called your bluff;
and we’ve had more than enough with this foolish fucking claim that life is a test.

Don’t you see?

It’s more like a quest.

Remember.

There’s no such thing as blessed.

There’s only failure and success

and when the yellow sun sets,
only you get to decide.