And
someone asked me
What if
the Indiana Jones movies
were dreams
Han Solo had
when he was frozen
in carbonite?
I replied
Can Kierkegaard
be my god?
And Camus
his son?
And absurdism
my holy ghost?
And
someone asked me
What if our earth
is their heaven?
I replied
I’ve seen things
you people
wouldn’t believe.
When I was a child, I had fear running through my bones. When I was a child I had anxiety moving my muscles. When I was a child I knew nothing about emotional starvation
or
suicidal tendencies.
I crawled into places
that seemed safe.
I begged for things
that should have brought relief.
When I was a child
I cried like one.
I grasped life
by the hand. I held on for all I could. And by thirteen I was walking well enough that I could stumble and still stand. I could fend off threats and emerge only slightly battered. But I still stood on my feet, in tennis shoes, with socks pulled up to my knees. And I stood. Not tall, not proud, but I stood.
It wasn’t long before the weight on my back became too much. I tried to cut it and run. I still try to cut it and run.
I have lessened it. I have mitigated it. I have survived with it. I do not want it.
I am not a victim, though. I am a child of God. I am a son of my parents. I am a brother to a sister, and an uncle to a nephew.
So who am I? Who do I think I can become? A human being? A human doing? A human nothing? Can I wake from this sleep, emerge from my slumber?
Why do I want so badly that thing I cannot have? When I emerge – standing on my feet, walking through my pain, waking from my nap – what will I find? Who will I have become? A living, breathing dragon? A fruit fly? A wooden boy brought to life?
Or will there exist just solitude? And the worst type of solitude at that: tens of thousands of people abound, but I cannot reach out and touch them. Because I am still a child, with fear running through my bones.
Forced myself inside
to reside
for a long vacation.
Why the up and up
and down, down, down?
Perhaps I will emerge
with winsome words
and ill gotten gains.
There are
no voices.
There are
no visions.
And yet
there are still
white walls.
As long as the sun shines
on me
I can stay alive.
The cheshire grin
through windows
in a white
antiseptic
hallway.
Just enough light.
Just enough warmth.
Just enough life
to make it through today.
I see you as I never have before.
There is no sense of shame
and no hesitation in your movement.
It’s clear without being forward.
Enticing without flirtation.
There is a sense of affection
with no physical touch whatsoever.
In your mind a riddle.
I’ll never solve it.
You are the last of the unknowable.
The one whose outer shell
I cannot crack.
The last of my muses
whose comfort I’ll never fully know
but who pulled me
out
and pulled me
through.
I am 8000 feet
tall
and see ants
far below
They have no problems
They have no worries
They exist
I am five feet
eleven inches
I do not see
ants
I have problems
I have worries
I exist
I am a miniscule ant
Problems?
Worries?
Existence?
We
all of us
wait to be crushed
Why won’t anyone crush us?
Sitting every so often. I just need a break from the movement of the wheels. I never got too far and instead just kept moving along from place to place. The sun keeps me warm. The sun keeps me sane. If there was a sunset for months I would be driven to drink and lower my head even more towards the bar than it is now. It’s slowly sinking and I aim to make myself live a worthwhile life but I just feel an ebb of all emotional language. It’s a lack. I still want more time though, to feel this all day. I want the drain and strain. I want to feel her gone even more. I sit and write and read but don’t find any answers – just an urgency. It isn’t a sort of things where this is any substance. It exists as a vast mystery. Unknown even to me except on subconscious levels. It inhabits the space between you and I. A Sunday or Saturday night. No one exists but you. I never felt the draw from anyone else. I wish I had. Some card in my wallet from which I could call and find a reference. A closer feeling than what I would expect. We didn’t meld in a way I thought we might. It hurts but we move on. As long as I have the sun. As long as I have the warmth. A break from the wheels.
She asked
if she could introduce me
as her boyfriend.
“You’re already putting your dick
in me,” she stated.
I mused on this fact.
Stroked
my chin.
Stared
into
the middle distance.
“Yes,”
I said
turning toward her.
“That seems fair.”
I didn’t tell her
that two weeks earlier
I had told
a group of strangers
with no hesitation
that she was my girlfriend.
So many nights
dark nights
with the streetlamps
burning holes
through my eyes
I stared out beyond
what they offered
and saw nothing
A dead place
in my head
In my eyes
Forced myself
to keep looking
though
Didn’t see anything new
Just dark
pervading
blackness
Could it grasp me?
Could it hold me?
How far down
would I allow
its touch
to go?
Ready to gallop
alongside you
thinking
you empathize
with me
In a white place
It shouldn’t be
so reassuring
with you singing
in my ear
sharing
your years
over the course of minutes
You say
I know you
I know
I know
I respond
