intoxiCAN

How now folding always at 90 degree angles we are fleshy automatons marching to the drone. Oh to soar when there is no such thing as “too high”. Led to a door made of dough and thought we bar our own entry to paradise, tumble between netherworlds half out of our minds, muttering incoherently about the inherent injustice in being a wash, bleached and dried, tarred and feathered.

I got fried, standing in a crater on the sun.
It felt all right, it could do no wrong.
I’m sorry you caught me here,
writing this song.
Let us not, I say, eliminate indulgence-
oh, never that!
That look is getting in my eyes and
sticking its pinky in my brain.
Count your lucky beans we were made for all extremes.
We are walking off the years, shrugging our shoulders and tears.

Too late you take note of the pandemic in your mind. Don’t be a buzzkill now- chin up! Zesty you are saucy like whoa. And I crept into your veins and swam to and fro. My dear sweet intoxicant, mind the headbeams and look me in the eye. Wordless I answer your cry with a sigh. Together we were hot blue fire, until I found you scheming with my dear friend, Desire. Her eyes shone pure jade evil, and I tripped, letting all the cats out of the bag, then pulled the song out of the high note, scooped it down and over your mouth. My voice froze and crystallized in the air between our eyes.

These are the questions of the damned which spring forth unbidden in the nexus of fear, your shadowed undoom. I am left to ponder the circumstances of my casual existence. There is intensity alone in all the bones of my neck and spine.

Forgotten, we would cease to wonder why we ever cared so much in the first place.

I punched the uncertain mouth, walked on eggshells and cared to mention, hurtled through a darker dimension making faces hurling my guts out at the immortal womb of sky. Afterwards, I crawled to bed and under the blanket, fetal and unsung. This was the first time, but not the only one.

She told me half the business of forgetting is writing a new script for your mind. The other half is letting go.

My brain is out of breath, I am gasping airless space, willing myself into existence. The will is stifled out of creativiy. Bugged out and free all of me will fade away to grey.