jeebus13
Bluelighter
No more time for anger, pain, sorrow, or the other baggage that everyone tells me isn't real (and I know it's real, it just isn't real GOOD.) I keep sweating off my masks in this stifling summer sweat-storm of drought. And to top it all off, my fucking apartment stinks like fish! FISH! I fucking hate fish! Why the hell did I cook fish? Probably because I hate starving more... but only marginally.
I think I'm forgetting how to speak to anyone but myself, and I'm boring me. No I am not too hard on myself, I am as easy as this oppressive heat is heavy. And to top off this amazing fucking moment, I had to chase a bat out of my apartment (again) without stepping on my new kitty. The only new thing in this great dusty, red-brick pit of emptiness and I'm already seeing him as a burden.
I wonder what Jesus would do if all of HIS sanity and intellectual and rational safeguards left HIM in the lurch one fine evening. Maybe I'll fall through the floor like a thousand dreams I've had on a thousand nights in a hundred different beds. Maybe just being a despicable burden to the rest of the life on this planet isn't enough anymore.
Maybe no one is coming home this time, not even me. Such beautiful foreplay should match its climax, but I don't see anywhere else to go. I can barely find MYSELF these days and even less at night. I just wish she would come home and ask me, "What's wrong with everyone? What did I ever do anyway?" And then I could answer with 'I don't knows' and sweet 'Nothing, honeys' and everything would be the same again.
I just want it all back, I want the whispers while I'm trying to sleep... I want the battles over the remote when Adult Swim comes on at the same time as Cops. It didn't seem like it mattered much, then.
But maybe you went away a long time before that and I just never noticed. You tried to tell me that I underestimated the sneakiness.
So maybe you're gone. Maybe you were never here, at all. Maybe neither of us were.
Maybe I'll meet you again someday when we're both monkeys playing in a distant and fleeting forest canopy. Maybe I'm a monkey already--
Maybe I just want someone to come home.
I think I'm forgetting how to speak to anyone but myself, and I'm boring me. No I am not too hard on myself, I am as easy as this oppressive heat is heavy. And to top off this amazing fucking moment, I had to chase a bat out of my apartment (again) without stepping on my new kitty. The only new thing in this great dusty, red-brick pit of emptiness and I'm already seeing him as a burden.
I wonder what Jesus would do if all of HIS sanity and intellectual and rational safeguards left HIM in the lurch one fine evening. Maybe I'll fall through the floor like a thousand dreams I've had on a thousand nights in a hundred different beds. Maybe just being a despicable burden to the rest of the life on this planet isn't enough anymore.
Maybe no one is coming home this time, not even me. Such beautiful foreplay should match its climax, but I don't see anywhere else to go. I can barely find MYSELF these days and even less at night. I just wish she would come home and ask me, "What's wrong with everyone? What did I ever do anyway?" And then I could answer with 'I don't knows' and sweet 'Nothing, honeys' and everything would be the same again.
I just want it all back, I want the whispers while I'm trying to sleep... I want the battles over the remote when Adult Swim comes on at the same time as Cops. It didn't seem like it mattered much, then.
But maybe you went away a long time before that and I just never noticed. You tried to tell me that I underestimated the sneakiness.
So maybe you're gone. Maybe you were never here, at all. Maybe neither of us were.
Maybe I'll meet you again someday when we're both monkeys playing in a distant and fleeting forest canopy. Maybe I'm a monkey already--
Maybe I just want someone to come home.
