you have only one chance at this at any given time. the moment has left before you have even begun to comprehended it. hence the ghost of the stairwell. the haunting that comes after when you suddenly realize what has truly happened. the mind takes it all in too late, too sourly, too slow to spit back the proper response. there is no response but the one you made without thinking. it goes on like this. constantly, not stopping. how horrible. not stopping. without stopping. no room for it, gone just like that. to be in the moment, to be present, to be conscious of the how quickly it all goes and to take it all in. to empty the mind so that it is filled with the moment you are living. too soon, too soon, just like and it is gone.
Monthly Archives: February 2008
fake it
the beautiful thing about children is they simply cannot fake it.
in all this noise
there just isn’t enough to keep up, for the up keep, daughters breaking games for attention, newborn sons mewling for their bottle and the day goes by just like that, and you have to put this desire away and that yearning away and that bit of frustration that would normally have you put your fist through a wall you set aside to show your daughter this is how you hold a slice of pizza to eat it like a grown up and you tickle your son while his mother makes him a bottle and you feed your wife while she feeds your son because her back is broken and you push the rest of the day further back into the night until you can finally get here and jot down the remnants and even so even so despite it all it takes your mind off everything else it takes you away you from yourself you find some peace in the midst of all this noise.
unkept beast
the beast within me is never asleep, it does not know slumber. it always only muzzled and chained, it growls through the night. it makes me restless and angry without cause. it drips hungry saliva as it paces around. it is mangy and unkempt, its teeth yellowed but still sharp, gnarled claws scratch the floor. it sniffs around for escape, it perks its ears for any sign of exhaustion. it is beautiful and desperate. relentless and cunning. it is all the things I keep myself from being.
piercings
stunning and broken, orange seeds down the chin, sticky lips and a mist of rain that washes across the fender. all things come to the road, all things leave it. it begins and ends with exhaust, finds her fingernails before exhaustion. he tears at it, the canvas, the grass, the skin of an organ slick and wet and pulsing, nothing inside, black jelly, wet ants thick like gravy, warm and overflowing. i had dreamt this, she said and laughed as she pierced my ear, my eye, hooking a silver chain on both ends and tugs me to her.
getting off on my cruelty
she asks, do you get off on your cruelty?
and I said, yes, yes I do. it makes me what I am, it gives me strength. it tells me that I am just as evil as what’s out there, it tells me I can keep those I love safe. it tells me I am capable of anything. something I forget from time to time, living this blessed life that I have.