February 13th, 2008
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Engraved in the light
And the heart bears indentations
Of yesterdays hurting child
The now we will run with smiles
The morrow will heal the night so
Morning comes
Midnight make fast with the sun
I can hear my name be reborn
On the cloud within the sky beneath the dawn
It's like meeting girls. A relationship is just another kind of job, isn't it. In the beginning you pretend to be that perfect employee. You lie in the interview and then you do your best for a while. You never step out of line. You always wait until you go home to use the bathroom if it's number two. You shave and brush your teeth every day. When you're kissing you never pull out the pen and write "whore" on her body unexpectedly. You behave. But how long can that go on before you start going crazy? You have to be yourself. That's why it's called being yourself.
In the end it never works out. You are who you are, no matter what you pretend at the beginning. So I'm not pretending. I drink to ignore my problems. I spend more time with my computer than with my friends. I don't have a very good relationship with women. I am angry and lonely, but I can wash dishes just fine. I'm being honest. Please don't be an asshole about this.
God -- I'm making this quick and honest because that's all I know. I might not know much, but I know this. I know there are people like me who are so angry with you. You broke their heart, what are you doing? Are you sleeping or are you dead or are you bored? What exactly are you doing up there? Are you playing with the stars? There is a man sitting on the cold sidewalk covered with some ice near 4th street between the record store and the market. Did he slip from your list? Surely he is a good person, I could see how much love and life was swimming inside of him and I need this. I need you to wake up and be real. Come in the snow or rain or sun or a shooting star. Come to me in a song or the words of someone I love. Can you do this for me? I need to feel whole. I need to feel. There is a glass of water on the table in front of me while I write this and I filled it back up and took a few sips and now it looks even. Now I'm confused. Again. I'm alone. Always. I sipped again, my throat hurts. It's empty. Definitely empty. GOD, ARE YOU LISTENING? Come inside of my dreams because I don't mind visitors. God, bring back the dead. God, fix our hearts. God, listen to us. God, I know a person who deserves to be full of love and life, in fact, I think he is, but could you convince him a little bit more? For me? I don't know who you are. I don't deserve to be asking for favors. Hell, I might not even be on your list. Do us a favor and make the water too hot for my skin so I get off the tub floor and don't ever let me stay awake again and don't ever let me breathe another ungrateful breath and don't let me let another person down. There is no alternative. Make me full of love and life. Are you dead?
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