Friday, December 21, 2007

bleak

The distance between loneliness and loved is so minute, so uncertain, and indefinable. It is a line we waiver between numerous times every single day. It is the immeasurable distance between sanity and madness. The slow-plodding eternity in-between cigarettes. The awkward silence on the telephone. The nauseous feeling of disgust after sex. The irritable sense of discomfort when the coke wears off. It is the suicidal nuances we run through our brains as we sit alone in our cars commuting to work on a cold snowy Monday. It is the heart sickness we feel after the buzz and empowerment wears off and uncontrollable dizziness and puking sets in. The sine curve wave we all ride, eyes locked on a white sandy beach, never arriving to our destination.

Loneliness is pain and we all find ways to numb this pain.

I wander. When the higher then high wears off and I crash back down to earth in a heap of feathers - I wander. I turn off the phone and refuse to take calls. I shut down my heart. I become fearful of the world in these moments so I seek refuge in my dive-bar panic room. I close my eyes and refuse to let anything in except the dull bass drone of the jukebox which belts out sad songs over and over. A perpetual motion machine it is one of the things that shall always remain static in my life, the jukebox, my son, and the bottle. I close my eyes and try to make out the neon tracings in the back of my head and I miss my kid. Slamming shot after shot of the hard shit I hope I can find my way home. I hope I may be able to find the path, crumbling and overgrown with brush, that leads to Elysium.

That leads to you.

It is said the world may end in the year 2012. The Mayan calendar stops in 2012. It is understood something catastrophic will happen be it a heavenly body colliding with the Earth or the swift progression of a horrible virus or perhaps all-out nuclear war. The world will undeniably end. I hope I may shake this loneliness and learn to live in this world again and make the most of the precious little time we have left… I certainly try. But there are those moments of weakness where I must escape and hide. Life is the time I am with him. The time in between I am fucking dead – a zombie.

In the end of days I pray I am with him so I may comfort him and be his strength.

And after that when we all turn to dust I will be quietly waiting for you.

7 comments:

LMB said...

You betcha sweet pouty lips I'm still at it. How you been? Your blog was blocked for awhile...and so?

LMB said...

Your in Dallas right? Tijuana - yes I am there and as wacky as ever. The rent here is cheap and for you the women are quite hydrolic - not to mention alcohol prices. Let me know and I will give you a hands on tour, Hermes - heh, very hands on...

Charlie Loudowl said...

I prefer to think that the Mayan creating the calander simply got bored, ran out of stone, or whatever. Nice alternative to the more sinister end-of-the-world thing.

Failing this, perhaps it's the start of a new cycle, era, age of enlightenment or whatever.

Meh, who knows. I'm just glad that I'll most likely be around to find out.

LMB said...

by the way I'm over here again....

www.borrowedflesh.blogspot.com

I added your blog link. Yay.

Anonymous said...

That first paragraph is amazing. So true and beautiful.

emeralda said...

it makes me sad that my love knows what you are talking about.
i can feel you. but i can't understand. and i want to still your thirst with my tears that i cry over this burnt down bridge.
even if it is just a moment.
it is always for me this moment of pain
when i wanna climb on the roof and shake the world and and scream
and try to lend you my eyes
to see
the other side

extraspecialbitter said...

one of my favorite haiku, by George Swede:

leaving
my loneliness
inside you