Thursday, January 22, 2009


I lost control of my kite, my precious kite. Back in the days of darkness when I lived in a cage and could not hold my own babies on their birthdays I dreamed that one day I would stand with them on a hilltop and sail a kite over the blue with them. Now I can fly a kite and we have kept it up on some bright clear days, but then, on some other days, windy days like this, I’ve lost my grip and it sails away without me. Goodbye for now, kite.
I want desperately to say something but I don’t know what it is that I wish to say. I want to tell you NOTHING. I want to growl like a bear, whine like a dog, and coo like a dove. I want to be plugged into the wall like an appliance and sing my electrified robot love into the dark jealous night. I’d like to live in you, fade into you, and drink from the blue vial, stage my own death, run wild through life rather than become such a meek shade that all I shall inherit is dirt and the taste of a master’s boot heel. I have longed, since before I gasped my first breath, to do something. I came screaming into this world with a purpose which I cannot put into words, a purpose that is a roar, and my intent for following through with this impulse to live is stronger than steel. For a moment I may wax feeble, then at the last moment, as I sink into the pillowy soft depths of sleep, I remember to make a terrible sound, a sound which will shake the earth to it’s foundation and cause the mountains and plains to be shed like a skin and the oceans to leap out into the black abyss.
I do not want to loose a moment, patience has been a hard won upgrade. Saying something, anything at all is better than slipping quietly from birth to death. I want to live. I want LIFE with the capital letters. Let me manipulate this tender dream flesh, this world skin, until I have achieved that mysterious something which I intuit cannot be achieved, but is my purpose none the less.
If I am chaos, if my words are chaos, then at least they are something. At least they are here. I lack discipline. Without it I will never be able to realize my desire. This heart filled to the brim with sloppy passions and fears like tiny bent paper clips- cold malleable things that cannot hold any thing together, the pages will blow away in the wind despite motions to the contrary, and yet I keep the bent paper clips as if they will somehow do me some good.
I do not think that I will have to die.
Then I accept that I will but I cannot believe that I might have to return to my dark cell someday, my cold dripping cage.
Anything I say is silly. Everything I say is silly.
I can’t seem to hold myself together. I cannot even find the glow right now, the warmth that emanates from within me and spreads out across the universe, a warmth that is you, a heat that I call love. My cup overflowed, I let too much wine spill out upon the cold stone steps.
Damn machine, damn animal.
Damn metal spider like staples trying to hold me together at the seems. My molar is vibrating and I can see myself as a crazy man on the streets smiling with empty rubbery pink gums teeth long since removed with a dirty pair of pliers.
When I see those people, I know it’s me. I know, I know. I can look into their eyes and say, "I Know. I know it was real. I know it because things like that have happened to me"
They are real and they are unreal, these strange dreams I am dreaming.
I burn my soup. I burn cookies almost every day, and every day I try again to make good cookies but I always burn them. They are lumpy when I wish they were smooth, and smooth when I wish they would be puffy. I can’t find the right recipe Every morning dirty dishes wait for me and I try to clean them. I clean them all day long and still they are there in the morning waiting for me. I can’t get a fresh start, I long for a clean slate, a day to dawn upon which I awaken and everything is set and ready for me to run.
But instead each day my running shoes are tied together at the laces and my gym clothes are dirty and wrinkled and I can’t get them out of my locker because I don’t know how to open the combination lock and no one can take the time to show me how.
Everyone else knows, they can all do it, but I can’t because I found a gold ring in the gutter walking home from school, clothed in my grandfathers military jacket and lost it a year later changing before PE.
I can’t do it because my parents disappeared so they couldn’t teach me how to do it.
I couldn’t do it because my teachers loathed me because everyone else loathed them. I think they liked to see me fail because then my peers could turn their jeers and criticism on me and forget all about the teacher who can now turn while they’re not looking and wipe the beads of sweat from their forehead unnoticed. Everyone I knew before you lied to me. I didn’t realize it, or I couldn’t believe it or I wanted to excuse them for it so that everything would be all right. Everyone before you wanted me to fail whether they admitted that fact to themselves or not. They wanted me to fail so that I would stay with them, be more like them, or give them someone to whip.
You bought me a kite. You put my dream directly into my hands. We bought it at a drug store off of mission and I took my girls to a cliff near the sea and we flew the kite until the wind acted savagely and tried to tear it away from us.
Today I lost it, but tomorrow it will be back.
Tomorrow I will fly it again.

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