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He says it's like a Ph�nix. Or Lazarus. He's not sure anymore. He's confused... & the booze & the drugs aren't helping any. His palms are sweaty & he's hearing very little of what is going on underneath. He's jittery now. He doesn't belong here anymore. Maybe he never did. He's out of context now. I closed the door & walked on. He was familiar... & i knew that i knew him. I couldn't place his face, though. Despite this, his voice carried buckets of sand through my brain. I wanted to distance myself. At home it was hard to unwind. Was it all a hallucination? I need to rest, for once in my life. Last night i dreamt that you were alive. The vision shocked me & brought tears to my eyes. Your mouth moved & exhaled the words i wanted to hear. God is a place... & it's so hard to find. The tears mingled with the blood coming from my hands. I grasped at rungs of a ladder i was no longer sure existed. The closer i got to you, the more the background fell apart. Life inside a painting is hard. In the end, none of it makes sense. Trying to understand it makes my head hurt. You're a thousand miles from here & you're nowhere. I'm looking into a mirror & i'm vacant. My mouth wants to speak words my brain has not yet learned. My hands grasp at straws. Something is wrong, but i've dug this ditch. Life is elephantine at times, at others it's amnesiac. Memory is a whore. Even still, it cannot be ignored. Learning to live with your memories takes time & patience... but it's time well spent. |