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a few of us never saw it coming 12:32 a.m. 2009-10-01 Break the silence with little noises till the spaces between words becomes something more like harmony. There is a desperation for love here, in these lines and in this house, leaking eery and scented through the cracks in old drywall and permeating the ancient airvents and gaslines like sweet poison euphoria. We will not give them anything, not while there is still air tearing sweetness through our nostrils and lungs, but we�re hungering just the same. For companionship (anyone oh anyone oh fuck me give it to me oh anyone oh please oh yea yes yes yes GOD! (upstairs somewhere)), for meaning (can you hear my luminous misty-eyed ghosts in my keyboard?) for understanding (they tell me the stories I�ve never been able live myself (somewhere across the hall)) and finally for acceptance (just let me be your man, then I�ll finally know, at least, that I�m a man (oh yeah you know where)). Fuck it makes me tired and I sit in these square rooms adjusting fingers to sweet daydreams, kick back another can of beer and roll a cigarette. Its enough, these three-cord love songs, these languid movements, these memories of Bukowski and Miller and Wolf here, sitting stark smiling next to desperation. Its enough, I think, to find something worth doing with my hands, and its enough to feel smug, and its enough to be alone here waiting for her. It�ll come when its ready and in the meantime there�s pop music and bleary-eyes and there�s the ragged disinterested distant creak of this house to keep me company. So say farewell, I�m only me alone anyway. back & forth |