How did it happen-
the only one alone here;
Me. Again. Of course.
Walking the damn line-
Praying for spiritual strength
And fast Benedryl.
Such an aberrant sentiment-
Unflinchingly given and reluctantly- accepted.
Growth is rarely a comfortable present;
at least not in the moment.
More of a gift to be appreciated when one grows older.
Cleverly disguised truth-
A Postmodern Jukebox manifestation of arrested development,
to be waded through both side by side
and often you taking point.
A partner and a challenge-
a teacher and a blessing.
An organized wish come through,
willed by his hands~
I can go months-
Years without a cigarette.
Until I get a certain sad that only smoking (thus far) relieves… maladaptive or not…
it’s a coping skill too…
Said certain sadness passes…
Cue subsequent guilt for even purchasing…
Then! (as if to punish myself for it)
I am compelled to finish the pack.
We’re never really finished, I guess.
Surrounded by the ever present Spectre of death…
Mortality itself has haunted since the 11th year-
Family & friends dying like the Hemingways and Fondas having a competition…
Addictions and violence permeate a life… a society… a culture.
Supporting those you love,
Facing my own fears;
Tasked with aiding those in grief…
A lifetime of training?
They don’t tell you the right things to say…
Or even the wrong things to say.
“It will always come in waves… they just get further between…”
Weak tea for the knock kneed.
Birth to death and all between;
Beautiful acceptance to righteous anger-
Fuck this mortal coil.
What a compounding thought-
Reflecting on my daddy issues;
My insane need for a father figure…
What I needed was a foundation-
“The all father”
for all intents and purposes-
An education on faith-
Repentance AND reconciliation.
A basis for growth- a reason for service and understanding of trauma-
And finally- a present presence.
It’s not crazy-
To question all of your decisions-
While holding your knees and rocking…
At the bottom…
of a dark closet-
and experiencing déjà vu…
realizing the trauma root to your aesthetic preferences…
synthesizing information, emotions, perceptions, programming…
Understanding leads to despair and experience leads to scripted good guesses…
“Fear is the path to the dark side.”
Leaps of faith…
Crisis of confidence?
Hope being what’s left and hoping because there’s nothing left-
Love or fear, only two choices…
At the heart of it…
Bottom of a dark closet.
beneath the typhoon in my bedroom…
I’m always ok.
it’s not crazy- it’s human, right?