I prefer that feeling.
That dried up feeling.
That spent feeling.
That empty feeling.
I dig it,
dig it hard,
when people are the worst to me.
The cruelest.
The most unkind.
I like it best when I
know it's coming
like a familiar tune
like train cars
like regret.
I like it most when
I stick it out there
and am foolish
and it gets cut off with laser precision.
I like it this way
because it's comfortable
fucked up
dangerous
real.
I don't like it when there's attachment,
like quicksand,
like chattering laughter
like clouds.
I don't like it when it seems like
a corner might turn
like time is a top hat
like Santa Elves and Easter Rabbits.
I hate it when the asphalt
slides away like cotton candy.
When sweet dreams spill over into
dark afternoons and solitude.
I hate it most when nothing
pretends in my mind
to be something.
When bees sting
and rain dances like a bugles mourn.
I hate it most when I care about anything
or anyone
or anywhere.
When days run away and
fingers snap like bowling pins.
I love it when
I fuck it all up.
When I'm blank tablet.
When there is no one.
When bells ring
iron bars clang
and words dance on paper.
I love it most when I'm alone
when I'm empty,
when I have no attachment.
when I'm burning like the blistering heat of
tomorrows melancholy sun.
I love it most when I'm empty,.
unfettered.
un dissolved
unrepentant
misunderstood
misrepresented
mistreated.
I love it most
when it's over,
all said and done,
when I'm pounding like a hammer
deafening like a broken heart
sworn in like an imbecile
overcome
debauched
defeated.
I love it the very very best when I hurt
because it's a recognizable thing.
It's something
It keeps me in line.
Keeps me from escaping wrongly,
strangling circumstance
becoming a butterfly
embracing civility.
I love it most when I'm in it
fucked up broken down
not surprised
empty
unfettered
alone.
I love it,
love it best
when it simply
is what it is.
is what it is.
is what it is.
Tonight.
I just want something real,
he said
I just want something real,
he said.
This common experience.
This shared suffering.
This birth into tragedy that
has shaped us so.
Demented us so.
Made us artist.
Let our spirits soar.
I just want the real experience now.
The authentic.
I suffer for it.
I await it.
I yearn for it.
This is the truth I toss about in
meandering lines.
We are in a space outside the tribe.
We are the neurotic episode.
We are heaven's offerings unto the dirt.
I don't want
the ones who hide from it
wearing the hiding
like a mask.
I don't want the ones who
fester in it
wearing the festering
like a mask.
Let us transcend it.
Let us overcome it.
Let us be all at once above it.
Let us enlighten ourselves with
the healing of it.
Let our spirits sing.
Let our words be divine.
Let us be more,
more and more and more
than the mere circumstance of it.
Faith faith faith faith
faith faith faith faith.
Goodbye to being,
hello becoming.
I just want something real,
he said.
I just want something real,
he said.
I'm not sure what I want
she said.
Something altogether different.
I think.
Come and be
real
with me
