Saturday, September 27, 2008

Evil urges

I don't think I can go on.

I can hear them. They stay just out of sight.

I think they are communicating with each other.

They appear to be coordinating their shadowy feints.

The fire isn't going to last the night.

It's getting darker.

Don't they feel the cold?

That's the last of it.

I wonder how long I can stay awake. The nights are growing longer. I can hear them. I can hear them. I can hear them.

The fire is out. It is dark. I can hear them breathing.

I stand tall and meet fate head on.

Something in the way

I feel fine anytime she's around me now,
She's around me now
Almost all the time.
If I'm well you can tell that she's been with me now,
She's been with me now
Quite a long, long time
And I feel fine.


I knew a lot. I knew how it started. I knew what happened when they started the purge.

Everything was clear then. Fight or flight. We ran, flapping shoes echoing off the brick apartment walls.

Frantic glances over our shoulders as the shots rang down. Flinching at the sharp report. Surreal heart beating in your ears WOOOSH WOOSH WOOSH WOOSH WOOSH.

You can hear the liquids pumping in your arteries and nothing else.

Chips of concrete and plaster dust filter through the sunlight. A perfect fit for a girl in need of a tourniquet.

Can you save me?

Come on and save me.

From the ranks of the freaks.

Set an edge and commit to descent. Gravity inexorably pulls and draws you down at an exponentially increasing rate of speed.

Set an edge and carve.

Flying down away. Just ahead of the closeout. Leaving only a whisper of a hint of a mist, a trace of your essence lingering on the cold breeze.

A plastic Jesus and a bathtub Virgin with Christmas lights as ignorant as a clenched fist, regretting what should have been, what could have been, what might have been.

One foot in front of the other. Don't look up, because nothing is sacred. Even the Pope stands naked in front of the mirror and asks himself why?


You think you belong to something that matters, but then you find you are grasping at vapor, gasping and clutching your chest, wondering what could have been, what should have been, what might have been.

Hours of time on the telephone line

Today was an oasis in my desert of stress.

I watched the sand blow.

The camel spits.

There is a palm tree, a shimmering brackish pond and a man roasting meat over the fire.

We drank intoxicating tea and watched the flames dance.

His deeply lined eyes danced and shone. I imagined a fanaticism I had never seen.

But he was just a lonely man in the desert.

I couldn't have imagined this. The brightness and the relentless sand, scouring me clean.

I remembered the lush green Mississippi bluffs. I knew I would never see them again.