the
moonlight searches the room
finds
her face
fast
asleep
keeping
pace
with
the dreams that midnight makes
linger
in the maze of a mind
i
left the dark streets of decay early
laid
down beside her
just
to watch the moonlight sigh
such
a privilege to be allowed to shine
on
perfection
why
am i so angry?
drunk
brawling
with strangers
tonto
without the lone ranger
is
an indian the white man
says
has no worth
but
what is worth?
birth?
you
know what?
i
just don’t know
but
watching jenny breathing slow
a
blanket covering a belly
that
continues to grow
and
i think meaning is
as
i keep saying it is
it
is and then it isn’t
and
the moment magnifies
that
there is no more meaning
than
this
jenny
denying me her kiss
with
her slightly parted lips
signifying
the stage of deep sleep
she
stirs
all
my senses purr
she
focuses on me
asks
what am i doing
i
say,
“pack
your bags honey
we’re
going to hell”
she
blinks then mutters,
“no
more listening to
santa
hates you for you”
then
rolls over on her other side
her
back creating a divide
wider
than the grand canyon
i
let my body slide
into
the perfect spoon
my
hand placed upon her pregnancy
but
soon
i
hear the slow breath
of
one who has returned
to
the deepest valley of sleep
i
can hear the cat
incessantly
clawing the litter
in
the cat box
some
sort of obsession
always
displayed
after
each and every use
i
get up and feel obtuse
for
the fragrance of my feelings
open
a beer and slouch into the couch
should
i go back out?
should
i stop pretending i’m a nihilist
since
all i ever do is search for some kind of meaning?
i
perceive existence as so demeaning
and
all you can do to console
is
tell me i should be grateful
my
life is not like the less fortunate
but
all you do is confirm
and
make firm
with
such a squirm
that
we are just worms
in
the sand
and
god
if
he/she/it exist
does
nothing more than
watch
the ant farm
with
morbid curiosity
but
it makes more sense
while
i watch the world suffer
in
its present tense
to
believe there just isn’t a god
why
can’t i just accept the façade?
do
as if doing is enough
instead
of having everything
that
i complained
while
walking the dark streets of decay
was
not choreographed into the ballet
but
now is incorporated into the dance
that
is maybe circumstance or chance
oh
i am so done talking
going
back out to resume walking
grab
my half empty bottle of bourbon
to
douse the flames
that
are consuming the foliage of my mind
whatever
it is i am hoping to find
among
all which i have already found
i
hope to drown out the sound
on
this concrete l.a. ground
of
that which will expound
the
stitch which will be sewn
to
make me whole
when
all i have known
is
this need for her tender touch
i
don’t care if it is a crutch
put
me in a wheelchair
and
push me into her hospital
bring
in the counselors
that
will advise that the cure
will
only work if i accept it
while
my mind then strays
to
the dark streets of decay
because
you cannot
convince
me that it is true
unless
“I” make it so
***
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