abecedariums are also hard
I Want To Thank The Little People...
After I was old enough, but
before I’d found my way around, I remember just staring at pictures
counting the far away places I’d reach. I had no desire for home:
didn’t worry about who’d bake me a birthday cake.
Everything was about being
far away, distance working like Proactiv - clearing up my life.
Getting out of the familiar comfort that
held me - was freedom - cutting ties, a restart.
I could reinvent everything. My life, LEGOs to build
just as I wanted - there are no flaws in the imagination. A
kid’s fairy tale - I only made it six hours, to Chicago. Bigger buildings
lined the street, promising access to heaven, but it all was
mostly just the same. Long days of waste and
nights that pushed into early dawn: planting my face
only inches from a computer screen. I cried;
pleading with myself and God,
questioning all my choices and yet always
ready for that moment when the pieces would fall into place. Dragging my
sorry ass around, just waiting.
Took me way too long to
understand I’d never be a rock star. No crowds churning
violently beneath my feet. I only hope I have enough left to find out
what life the mundane lead. I still dream - an addict coming clean - waiting for
xenon in my life to explode- illuminating - no questions . Then I’ll know I didn’t burn my
youth. Know that I haven’t run out of
zeal. But mostly I listen to my couch creak and wonder what next.