No Bones.
I grieve in the sky. Sometimes on the road. But never at home. This seems to be the order of things. But when it hits me, it's usually amidst a journey. During those distant times when the stranger to my right and I don't speak, so I am left with time to think. And then they turn to those I've lost. Recently and years past. And then the tears come. And, fuck, do they come fast. And I, who has to be the oak, can muffle my tears and choke down my sobs. I lean to the window. I look to the ground below through blurry eyes. Manhattan at night, lit up with a grid of yellow and white. It's freeways, like arteries, exposed to the light. Flowing like liquid. The left side is white, and blood red to the right. Churning below as I think of the grandparents I had once. The friends who went to soon. The wishbones hanging from the lamp at McSoorleys, asking the world to let it's boys who have died so long ago, with a helpless desperation, to come back soon. And I see the miles roll past in a blur of blue and green as I ride this flying machine and I realize that I am weeping the lost. The ones the world devoured in it's time from the belly of a beast. Each passenger, with their own sorrows, comprise it's feast. A private confessional amidst the clouds. So close to God, there is no need for a priest. And it suddenly makes sense why "here" is where I choose to make my peace. Like a pilgrim, with dust on his feet, shaking them at the beginning and end. I close the clouds and grieve.
"Forgive me, Father. For I have sinned."
Feeling like Shiva. Eight arms frantically grabbing at the hundreds of pieces to the jigsaw puzzle. In the dark. Feeling the edge of each one and trying to force them to fit. Unaware of the larger picture they make. Too busy looking at where each one goes to notice that "I" don't fit. You see, the problem, as I see it, isn't that we didn't try. It's when we quit saying "hello" and started saying, "goodbye".
Just In Case
Surgery today...
To Everyone:
In the immortal words of Bill and Ted's.
Be excellent to each other.
And... to you.
I never loved anyone more.... ever.
I am an asshole. I admit it. But at least I am learning. You see, this mind is like a steel trap that is always churning. And I am willing to recreate, redefine, shine, polish, and perfect myself. In a way that is a model of what you require and desire to keep. And this I would do for me. My last ditch effort to keep the things that help me to round off the pointy edges until I am what I choose to be. A man who can move away with you. Someone you can trust. Trust in. And trust yourself to be with. I have no hope to move you. My words are empty and lacking. My tears found wanting. I vomit forth a string of truths that in the past I may have misused in an attempt to find out if the future holds any more time for me with my muse. And I will admit to most of my apologies being just a hidden excuse. I stand bare. Unaware of whether you will stay or go and not contingent on which. You see, that is the real bitch. I am cultivating my sense of love to complete this. Hoping that it isn't broken but knowing the repairs need to be made just the same. I don't know why? For now we'll say to keep me sane. But if the spark remains, I want to find it. Feed it. Nurture it. And this is as honest as I can be. It isn't a manipulation if the plan is right there for you to see. The cold can thaw if the heat remains. And I will stay to birth it through all the labor pains. But I need you to search and find if there is something that you can hand to me as mine. I promise not to break it. Just let me love you. Here is my hand.. Take it.
