Enter the sanctuary of bright lights and pretty people. It is a synagogue. A cathedral of liquor bottles lined up squarely around the bartender/god and everyone worships the courage chemical. the ability to say the things you wish you could say if you were sober. of course you have no limitations which can be good or bad depending on the crowd. could get laughs and pussy. could get your ass kicked. could wind up alone and sad because of either outcome. potentially when living in that shrinking room, the floating caskets of the mind drifting down beneath the streets, in the sewer with the rabbits, the sewer rabbits that exist in fear of cars and dogs in suburban neighborhoods, modeled after ancient television shows. Ancient televisions shows! Treated with the same historical importance as ancient scrolls of writing upon the invention of ink. What animation! Bodies frozen in history like a mistake worth repeating. Have any doubt? Cross your fingers and dive in. Your wishes will be granted.
Park blocks away and find myself increasingly nervous and reach closer. Bump into a bunch of people. Feel judgmental eyes. The concern had to have roots in the THC and the lonely paranoia. With no back ups to talk to and discuss the terrible drug with. No other companion to understand become on the same exact level that I was on. And the anger subsides because I now opened the floodgates. One night. Drunk as I leave the abode (waiting) wearing appropriate winter attire and sufficiently intoxicated to enjoy the walk. My guess would be a mile and a half. Nothing too horrible. The cold night doesn't help. Bundle up and set out against time and the elements to fall in love at the English bar drinking Pilsner and Newcastle and whatever. I'll drink what she drinks. Match her. Talk to her. Never giving a fuck. But hey, these nights won't last. One day I will be looking back. This is the time to take initiative. Never take baby steps. Just jump into it with a force not to be reckoned with. Your impact with the water will cause a ripple effect beyond the measure of richter scale and tsunami warnings will be issued to those without impact zones. They chased them down and subdued them by force. We are no longer welcome.
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Explore the city for whatever language is left and use that countered sobriety for something good, strong and meaningful. Feeling too week to exist this isolation and return to a place where communication with another human being is an actual possibility. "You have to like to be alone." But there is no shame. Never living in pain. Rhyming sentences and not letting meaning pass through. Takes a minute to understand. Especially when so sedated. Bite the tongue and sit quietly resting with or without the shoulder pads necessary for resting. Lazily sleeping around. Become the anti hero of your own story and fill all of our hearts with eminent fear and joy tossled together. they are blended into a fine dust that we inhale whenever positive vibes fill the void beneath our breath. there are reasons behind such geometric symmetry. there are such occasions where the spirit of an individual is questioned and twisted to the very core. these are telling times to discover true nature. how can one deal with a broken heart? how can one deal with the thoughts of knowing all three most loved women in life are gathered in the very same place at the same time and when that warmth is so far away the slightest chill feels that much colder. there is a bite in the air. not of cupid's arrow. he is drunk and a poor shot with whiskey breath and a secret communication with the devil himself beneath the view of cute angel, bottle glass lines his cage. fermented fruit in varying decay lay around his crib or his grave site. either or. this is the time that we find ourselves. and all of us suddenly understand one and other on such a deep level. oh my god, I think constantly. How could I have been so cruel? ignored the ones that could have given me shelter that I looked for and all of the rebellious natures of cliques and friends and we all hated each other for reasons that are entirely fixable today. nothing can last forever. that kind of grudge-holding kills everyone involved swiftly and without mercy.. thirty years down the road.. all at once.
the air inside my lungs. my broken neck at the bottom of an infinite set of stairs. the stairway to heaven most lively. trying to type as fast as I possibly can and writing freely letting my fingers guide the train of though in my head due to the slight lapse in time between the two processes. words are falling and cascading but there is a bit of control involved unfortunately my critic is not shut off and words that come out are being told through subconscious process to sound a certain way and to make logical sense. but if I've lost you at this point then we can see clearly an accidental irony in the face of all golden gods, letting the wrods take hold in jazz rhythm. knowing damn well how a standard piece of written material should appear but considering it a jam session with words. everything from the language represented all at once.
sunrise in bedrooms of ex girlfriends
running through my mind tired of having holes in shoes
falling down onto knees until bleeding
picking up all of the raspberries we could carry into two buckets each, there was a breeze in the air and our long hair swayed in the breeze, we were children and still are, trapped somewhat in limbo, confused and wondering how it all happened in such a manner. I'm still the boy, the child, in the forest, wandering with friends and carving trails through a meadow and the trees laughed at us for our evident joy in their presence, we all basked into each others species, opening to the true heart of the earth, the soul of the world in grains of dirt, the shrubs and quietly whispering dead trees, cut one down once during a day, for some arguable reason, something live an avenged lover. we tried to cut one down for no reason and would up trying to expedite the process with fireworks in the wilderness. it was not wet. we were fire hazards and we gave no shits. shot bottle rockets at one and other and tossed mortar shells through the air at targets or at a silent salt water bay... lit the fuse and threw the damn thing at the last minute. now would I be more cautious? I could have blown a damn hand off and how could I be typing this as quickly as I am. only listening to second song since beginning of stanza. flying until my wings hurt though I don't care to land simply plummet into the ocean. splash.
