One of those fucking awful black days when nothing is pleasing and everything that happens is an excuse for anger, an outlet for emotions stockpiled, an arsenal, an armor.
These are the days when I hate the world. Hate the rich. Hate the happy. Hate the complacent, the tv watchers, beer drinkers, the satisfied ones because I know I can be all those little hateful things and then I hate myself for realizing that there is no preventative, directive, or safe approach for living.
We each know our own faith; we know from our youth how to be treated and how we'll be received and how we shall end.
These things don't change.
You can change your clothes, change your hairstyle, your friends, cities, continents, but sooner or later your old self will always catch up. Always, it waits in the wings.
My need is slow but don't stick (like the rain on the windshield).
One of those rainy day car rides. My head imploded.
The atmosphere in this car a mirror of my skull; wet, damp, windows dripping and misted with cold walls of gray, nothing good on the radio. Not a thought in my head.
Be safe.
I know a place we can go where you'll fall in love so hard that you'll wish you were dead.
Let's take life and slow it down incredibly slow, frame by frame, like two minutes that take ten years to live out.
Telephone poles like praying mantis against the sky, metal arms outstretched.
So much land traveled, so little sense made of it. It doesn't mean a thing all this land laying out behind us.
I'd like to take off into these woods and get good and lost for a while.
I'm disgusted with petty concerns - parking tickets, breakfast specials. Does someone just have to carry this weight?
The light within me shines like a diamond mine, like an unarmed walrus, like a dead man face down on the highway, like a snake eating its own tail. A steam turbine, frog pond, too-full closet burst open in disarray. Soap bubbles in the sun. Hospital deathbed, red convertible, shopping list, blow job, death's head, devils dancing, bleached white buildings, memory movements. The movie unpeeling, unreeling, about to begin.
I've seen your hallway. You're a dark hallway. I hear your stairs creak.
I can fix my mind on your yes and your no. I'll feel your face today in the sparkling canal all red, yellow, blue-green brilliance and silver Dutch reflection.
Racing thoughts, racing thoughts all too real.
You're moving so fast now I can't hold your image, this image I have of your face by the window.
Me standing beside you arm on your shoulder, a catalog of images, flashing glimpses then dawn again.
Untethered to this post, you've sunk in me.
Inhibition, distant tied-up longing. Clean my teeth, stay the course, hold the wheel. Steer on to freedom.
