Take it back, stop giving it to me, I don’t want it.
This insistent but subtle beckoning;
your happy eyes, the understated artisan beer.
The cars zooming by, people hollering inside of them.
A midnight stroll to her favorite bar,
the stylish one that plays The Queen is Dead at last call.
Let’s sit under the vine canopy I tell my friend,
sip the fair-trade latte on an early summer afternoon,
its coldness sweating through the two-ply napkin
and onto the rusty garden table.
My spirit is part of this spectral landscape
but my soul looks in from a distance out west.
I can’t accept what you offer me,
this easy manner and thoughtless comfort,
the idle coolness of a momentary bout
of narcissistic congratulation and whimsy.
The temptation to jump into the pool,
to dive into this deliberately purposeless water
leaves me numb with indecision.
Kiss him she tells me over and over again.
I would kiss him a hundred times over
but not here on this street at this time.
Take it back, I tell her. I don’t want it.
Stay away from me, I tell him. I can’t have you.
Be generous with that dose, I could use a puff of idealism
here in this velvety room filled with musky affection,
no more a detriment to my emotional unwavering than your reality.
I know it to be true, the speed of loneliness siphoning through my veins
at an alarming rate, disavowing my sense of control
and barely keeping my head above the surface
long enough to make out what I need to do.
Yet I roam ceaselessly and away from that place
of ungainly truths, of betrayals and facades
as I no longer desire their love.
Theirs is a false affection,
masked in pretense and expectation,
both of which I have no desire to fulfill.
I am wandering again through the alleys at night,
bright eyes watch my every step,
waiting to proposition me at their precise moment.
I crave the high that awaits at my destination,
a momentary bout of inspiration from someone
I’ve known during the last century,
someone whose hands will lead me away from the light
and into the familiar darkness again.
You know that moment when the Earth cracks in half,
when you can see the inside at that odd angle?
It’s when you know what’s important,
when you realize where your life is headed.
People on the periphery, the exterior, they don’t matter.
It’s the ones you’re bound to by heir and blood,
they’re the ones who will save you in due time.
You’re alone when it comes to others,
they won’t care for you the same way.
They would feed themselves before they fed you,
would shelter their own before sheltering you.
There are but few of us saintly enough to trust in humanity.
But your own, they’ll come for you.
You’ll always have a place with them.
this life we live
to the end of our days
where you and I grow old
and weary with sickness
and grief in unspoken volumes
but there is beauty in the fields beyond
where time stops just long enough
and we catch our breath
as we look up at the overcast sky
that periwinkle blue, those clouds blending
and everything is simple
and still again
the air is crisp in our lungs
revitalizing and reinvigorating
we could use a piece of this life
of a moment in absolute clarity
of unfiltered purity and depth
we should strive to come back here
to this place of dreams, of solace
in its sheerest form
more often than not.
You once told me that we live in an industrial jungle of chaos, where every moment of peace is as precious as a clean cup of water in most other parts of the world. You said that we should strive to find that center of balance within ourselves, among the chaos. In today’s day and age, everything moves at an unmercifully quick speed and we just keep running after it. No one stops to breathe deep, to look at the people beside them, to love honestly and willingly, to make some kind of lasting difference. No one stops for a second out of their busy day just to be a little more grateful, a little more conscious. I came out mentally and spiritually rejuvenated after every class. This bubble I’m living in became so much easier to bear, to appreciate, to enjoy, to analyze, to realize.
Imagine, then, my inexplicable sadness at seeing you so down, spiraling into the remorseless cycle of depression, wandering these sidewalks so invisibly, so transparently. And when I see your cries for help, I look at you and all of my humanness escapes me for a fleeting millisecond. The ugliness of my base nature comes out and my thoughts are swirling like white milk in a cup of black coffee. I become selfish in that millisecond, rationalizing what I’m seeing and wondering why that is. And then I snap out of it, as if I’ve forgotten some former life I once had.