Friday, April 11, 2014

tell me one thing you remember.

I hate spiritual journeys. If you knew me at all(you don't)you'd know that I'm not dogmatic at all. I hold nothing so incontrovertible that I'd fight for it. Well, maybe that's wrong. All my friends (who?) and lovers (hahaha shit)
            you can take that drained-pool swan dive I told you about. Twenty-two feet straight down to the grainy gunite. Can
            you see your reflection below? Can you see mine?
            Yeah, this isn't what I planned for (hahaha...ha ... shit.) I have a friend in Fort Saskatchewan that will tell you differently,
            But fuck that liar - how do you communicate truth over two thousand miles? It's metric there, but let's not talk metrics.
            I told him, you know, I'd catch her one day. I'd catch her and I'd make her mine. No joke (oh ha, oh hahaha holy shit. fuck)
            I told him I'd grease the wheels, you know, I'd do something different. Something that might allow me to feel again. Love.
            But fuck if it's not exactly how I didn't need to feel now. I like the word, but the feeling is something fucked. It's a worrisome
            little tumor (is it benign? fuck). I'm sick of these senses, and all my friends are wearing their partners perfumes and smiles,
            All the blooms and petals of flowering (fucking) loves - Something that the seasons won't change for me. (I guess I should ask myself
            now, you know, for what do I need to be forgiven?) Everything I've drunk so far, I've metabolized to tears. On a roll here, you see,
            How do I keep these things rolling? I thought if I told you how I felt, you might stay another day or two. The thing is, I feel myself
            Slowly dissappearing. FUCK I REALLY THOUGHT if I told you. I just want you to stay for a little while.
            I know, with the anti-institution ... and the lack of kids (fuck I just feel like a change - give me a rainy day) - ONE OF US HAS TO
            GET HURT. One of us has to hurt, and one of us has to remain at the scene, one of us has to remain to deceive. I want to come home to you
            And hurt - I'll be the one, with all the raining blue blood from my veins I can give. (I thought, you know, Fuck.) But, have you seen me
            lately, liar? GET THE FUCK AWAY. This isn't gonna be easy, you see? I don't need this, believe me. Without monogamy and the fading, you see
            ONE OF US HAS TO HURT. Have you looked lately at my face? I was out in the rain. I was out in my clothes and my blood. Tell me, just tell
            Me the one thing you remember about me, before you know, we both know one of us has to hurt.