Tuesday, November 25, 2014

twentysomething. (throwback)

September 20, 2013 at 8:45pm

I don't want this to be about being young and dumb, and having our whole lives ahead of us.

I don't want it to be about succumbing to things like self indulgence and naive love, but when you take away all the things that affect those of our age, what are you left with? Is it vast, and empty, flat and dead?

Does it even feel?

Is it fleeting and indecisive like the Salton Sea, never really knowing when to be full and when to be a vast empty space, littered and punctuated with dead tree trunks like the hide of some great game beast, bristling with broken spears and primitive weapons?

Will we lie there on our beds of dust and sand as it slips from under us, sliding through the glass bottleneck of time, leaving us in the hollow ribcage of some great desert?

But, since I've become numb, I'm finding more and more that none of us know a thing about love.

How does it feel?


At night, I thank my lucky stars that mine is unrequited.

I thank the night for the falling light and the ghosts of distant stars that drift and vacillate like motes of some glowing dust.

And then burn up.

I thank the night for the cool clutch of coins in my pocket, and for the liquid that coats my heart.

"To fortune," and this bravado we both know I can't hold.

But waking up finds me mostly alive and well, and wide-eyed from my dreams.


But I don't want this to be about dreams and lively idealism, back in times when our dreams had potential.

I don't want it to be about succumbing to things like ego and narcissism, even when all we have is ourselves.

If you take away the great distance to our hearts, what's left of our generation?



I'd feel bad for us.

I'd feel

I'd feel anything at all, if I could.