I can feel you sneaking around out there, anxiety. With dreary leaves plastered upon your face; those ones that fell from the trees after hanging on the entire year through warmth and death and the end of things. You lurk around every corner with vestigial faith pouring from your palms like kool-aid flavoring. Or like blood. And you fear yourself. It's so effervescent: your power is self effacing. You humble yourself with the way you tear everything down. I am wrapped up in you like the traces of a past spent losing oneself in manic drug intake and breathing techniques. We find ourselves on our last breath together in the diving bell looking into one anothers eyes saying in unison, No Need. No Need. No Need. There is no need for all of this confusion; this earnest yet tense desire. All of this unease scratching our wrists bloody as we climb rooftops in an electrical black out. All of this tiresome writhing in the blood speckled crawl space of this life we work together to pacify. We work together to convince ourselves of the woods and their looming darkness. We work together to haul up the mossy remains from the sapphire labyrinth of salt surrounding the land. We work together to make the wreckage come back together. But it won't will it? Until there is a defining crack of lightning across the lonely prairie where the cattle wander with bellies full of dust, the pieces won't join hands. Hacking and losing our tears in the once fertile soil, we won't bring it back together until we reason with one another that we must distance ourselves from one another. There is no need for us to hold eachother so tight. For intimacy of destruction begets goodbyes, and loss is a gaining of a future: There is no need to tell ourselves we are the same, anxiety.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Yes I will die faster than you. But I will live faster than you as well. I believe a degree of recklessness is needed to get through this life. And if it is not realized the whole thing will fall apart. We are alike because we lose ourselves all the time. But it takes loss to gain love. It takes and it takes over and over again. Cursing the sun as I do my duty. Telling it to just go down. Sitting here, stupid, feckless, pensive, taciturn and aligned. Sitting here gaining premium access to drawn lovely creation while the poor sick brothers cock their wrinkled brows whilst the camera shoots a mug shot inside this skull of mine. And I will find myself after a dozen tears and countless beers. They lap against me and I feel such freedom like shattered glass.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Inexhaustible space traversed like a waking dream.
And feeling the goodbyes well up from nowhere.
Back to the beginning after everything,
all cluttered is over here.
She offered so much,
my stolid refusal already smarts.
Where we leave our hearts is always a mystery.
Like this windswept city off the coast of Antarctica.
Dwelling all duty without and kindled clean.
I am reaching an end to means.
I am witnessing the endurance of the lonely.
I get up with pains and retire like a broken window.
Though taped up and shattered the battering subsides.
Another weekend and this homecoming of sorts:
really just the loss of another head.
A brain that calmly lets itself hold onto the past,
though it has just happened.
Forever out of reach,
the distance that lays,
enrapt and conversational.
Saying, "You found something there,
you had something there."
But as all temptations are,
the future is alluring.
We'll put you off as close as we can.
Yet you know not of your destination.
This kindly driver just winking.