Wednesday, April 2, 2008


i am so lonely.

do you ever have days that you think no one is like you? well, no one is like me. on a bright clear day i am proud of that. but it's a foolish thing to love yourself for. because rewards don't flow to the obscured.

i have no one to laugh with.

i have no one i can even talk to. i am withering like a flower unplucked. i have no one to share anything with. i feel like i will drown and no one will have even noticed i was in the water.

i have no one to tell about my misfortunes, and they are killing me.

i want to let it go. i want to drift away. i want to leave this coast and see where i wash up. i do not want to be chained.

i am my own jailer though; i know it. no one of us is any different.

did you ever feel you wanted to step through a mirror and be laughing in the sun?

did you ever feel you were six million steps from your next laugh?

did you ever feel that not feeling would be better?

i have no one to tell about my misfortunes, because they are nothing, not even a story. suburban man has life of quiet desperation; not a headline, nothing to report. but i still feel as though i could touch you.

i feel as though i could reach out and touch you, a touch so tender you would forget all the other times you had been touched, and would live from then on for another touch the same. i feel as though i could lift you up, enrich you, paint gold in the cracks of your life.

but what can i do? fester in a basement in a quiet road in a quiet suburb of a town where everyone's in bed by ten. i feel a pain in my side and i say, if it's cancer, i lose, but if it's cancer i have an excuse to just let go. and i don't know what i'm saying but what i'm saying is killing me too.

what can i do? if i knew, i'd do it. i'd be doing it if i knew it. it breaks my heart to have no good choices, but what do you do when your heart is already broken?

I have a picture; it recurs. I dreamed it and I see it in the day. It is a flower, maybe a rose, maybe a tulip, I'm not sure and it doesn't matter. There is a single tear, or a drop of water, a drop of water, maybe a tear, sliding down the inside, into the cup. That is it. That is all there is.