Miss

I miss it. I missed it. I miss those smells. I miss that voluminous gaze. I miss the valley, oh how I do. Remember that one time? I remember them all. I've missed it. Rapture. Infinite complacency. I missed the signs. The exit. That place. I miss a certain type of blue. Bullets & bullets, chains atop chains that you wrangle me in with. I'm locked in your cellar. I missed it. Then, not now. I see it. In some other town, you'll be there. It'll be there. It's always with you. Bound to mediocrity now. There ain't nothing there. You've missed it too. You have your own chains, kept tied up by another. Hazy rooms, cigar smoke & the smell of cognac. A gamble you've taken. Nothing. There ain't nothing. Use that, if you want. Happiness CAN be vice. A motherfucker, destined to achieve that which is so easy to find. A man of simple. Redundant. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. This way, up here, you can have it. It's a hard climb up, but at the peak is a view insuperable to anything down there. I'm no shepherd, but I am a rock. I've missed it & now you do too. I'll set up here for a while, that's alright. Good things never come easy.

Why/How

Can you understand it? I cant. Or, at least I don't think I do. The rapid movement of my right hand makes the table shake, which leads me to see the liquid in my drink quiver. Periphery. Pulp. They say your periphery is better than your straight on. I won't take their word for it though, I have no idea who "they" are. Still here. Sort of. You take 5 steps back. I was sitting on a curb the other day, early morning, still drunk, that big, beautiful sun shitting all over my face. Some guy with a scar on his face walks by & I ask him, "Hey, you ever been in love"? He pauses. "I've been married 4 times, I learned to let go". "You have a nice day". I'm trying to fill up the dark spaces in my mind, the hole thats in my chest. These bottles sure as hell ain't no gauze. That wound there is still gaping, that blood still flows freely. I watch it wind its way down towards my dick. That asshole. I let him get too far ahead of himself, think too much for me. Now look at us. He's covered in blood (not to say that blood isn't something he's not used to being around), & I'm twiddling my thumbs, blundering. It ain't about WHY, it's about HOW. Speaking of which, what the hell are you going on about?

Osmosis

No, no. That ain't it. Ramble some more. He was a sick son of a bitch. In & out, always offering you a bump or 2. Only in exchange for something, though. I saw him move back & forth real fast like the way a body does after its neck's been snapped. Going on & on about god or something, blowing hot air onto anyone close enough to stand listening to him talk. Thankfully it was cold outside, it sure as hell kept me warm. It's cold now too. You laid on the floor with her. She told you you were handsome. I needed that at the time, things were looking grim. These GODDAMN aloe plants. The Wolf. I hung around one for a while, it spoke a language I barely understood. I liked it though. It told me things I'll never know, sent out into the ether. Some lucky son of a bitch probably got the satisfaction out of those words just by virtue of osmosis. I could've used those words then too. It's still cold. You come up, you come down. You've felt it all. Now, you feel nothing. A little taste & you'll be back. I'm not really sure if it's such a bad thing.

Off With You

Kind of. I'm in some fucked up emotional purgatory. I don't feel anything. At least for now. I've watched him cascade from up to low. He was there for it, but he was no witness. Only until he came down, & let me tell you, he came down HARD. The sky was grey then. It's grey most of the time. Grey, grey, grey. All of the termites are out there geared up for some fraternity style fuckfest. "Hey man, you holdin"? "Only if you kiss the tip"! "Fuck off"!! That's about it. The PINNACLE of culture. That's what we're here for! It ain't your god, it ain't no metaphysical, things happen for a reason, she's the one, it was meant to be type bullshit, no. FUCK. That's it. We're here to fuck. From your boss, who fucks you in the ass on your pay, to that coworker who you've been sticking it to on the sly, to that green ass 21 year old NYU student from Ann Arbor with too much money & too many bad ideas, who ends up going home with that creep from the bar with the leather jacket on who gives her so much cocaine it makes her sick & she can't scrub the guilt off for 3 days straight, that's about it. Let's all fuck ourselves into oblivion then, cause there ain't much else to do.

Break

I couldn't imagine it any other way. Or maybe I could, I'd like to. Either way, things go as they do. It's been sometime now. I always go. Memories, moments. I'm always here & there. It ain't easy. When the woman you love tells you she wants you, tells you that it feels right, tells you that it hurts & then goes off & fucks another, your brain just melts. I feel like a goddamn rug. I'd like to assert myself more. Grab her, shake her, bellow my unconditional love for her to the goddamn sky, but it's most likely useless. GODDAMN. I'm 23 at the time of this writing but I feel 3 times that. Every night, same routine. I shrink myself down to 6 inches & go for a swim in a bottle of god's amber liquid. I'm 23 at the time of writing this & my everything hurts. I couldn't shake the feeling, so I just bummed around waiting for something to break. I couldn't see it, so that's why I'm here. If you were in my shoes, would you?

Face

You send a message out into the ether, knowing full well the repercussions you face. You pause to follow the face. The sting is too sharp. The mark is left. You'll feel that one again in the A.M. Paid 6 dollars. 4 for the beer, 2 for the tip. 2 because I'm in the industry. I understand the plight of this occupation . Unless you really give a shit. Then you're just dull. That also depends, though. I'm burning up inside. That bathroom had walls covered in chalkboard paint. I LOVE YOU was scribbled on them. Chicken-scratch. You can tell a lot about that one by their handwriting. GODDAMN. Eh, what hell, I'm in love. I could drink up every ounce of that woman if she'd let me. Unfortunately, I can't. Probably wont ever again. You never know. In this place, where the pain never dulls. In this place, where the bulk of everything you dislike surrounds you, yet you somehow feel comfortable. In this place, where you're not found & on the way home, you burn bridges. Goddamnit. Goddamnit is all I have to say.

Recall

It's overcast. You can't breath. No way you'll go out there, no way. You fucked it, so sleep in it. & so, that's it, I guess. Over on that hill over there is a green house. Built by an industrious man with weathered hands. You'll probably never see it again. On a boat. You're being towed. You remember you had short hair. You could feel the wind cutting sharply onto your scalp. She threw something, you laughed. You were both on a dock. He took a photograph. It was cold then, but presence left you feeling warm inside. Your hands were cold. You couldn't grasp the neck. You faltered. Remember that smell? Recall is a motherfucker.