Thursday, September 29, 2011


A picture is worth at least a word, or maybe lighting a cigarette is enough. I remember photographically when father's cigarette burned the flesh of my hand at the race track infield in the dewy morning with a black coffee in my hand. Funny thing black rooms and burns. Funny thing the way memory presents itself in a library elevator in the aftermath of a loss the proportion of which will burn for some time to come. I would like to go back there but it is complicated and I cannot leave, I cannot leave and I do not want to leave what she has given me. I am grateful of the life we have on dirty carpets with dogs and cats. I am glad of the dances we have oh dance with me my darling if we could take a picture of this it would not be enough but it would be something to later burn with some difficulty. Underhanded in its musical score a minor chord, captures our anger in a mirror oh a mirror and we are weary of looking at ourselves. None of that maybe stuff, timid boys and shy girls are lonely types and we despise them because they are or were us and who are we kidding they are us and after such a tremendous loss we despise them very much. eramos algo. Si eramos algo, just once. Christmas lights and a doggie running wish we could run why we can't run I don't know honey please lets run and plug in those Christmas lights Christ how in the fuck are we gonna find our way back home without the Christmas lights and how could we ever know what's out there in the dark tie a bow on top of your tree not even a real tree but as long as the electricity is still on the home can't break your heart so keep it that way in your heart or you will break oh we might be broken but I don't want that kind of painkiller let's feel this pain out. Please let it touch me, let it scratch I've had worse I'm lying but if I don't bleed out now I may never get the chance. Only the lonely don't know when to shut up mostly because of the scarring which is irreversible. Desert wanderin yeah. Desert wanderin Bethlehem boy invents nuclear warhead of bored frustration. Wants to express his anger, obliterate a people scatter particles like fire crackers among a spreading circle of boys. I see why you drink, brother. The anger is epic. And it is spreading.

Eramos algo. Si eramos algo, just once.