Saturday, 28 March 2015

Journal # 03.28.15

My desires do not much understand or care for what I need. I watch my desires float around and I keep them on a kite string. One of them wants me to find a partner. To get into relationship and sex. That one is way up there where the wind never dies. Tugs at me. Usually when I see the magic that happens between couples. I mean, the way they look after one another. It's not very often I see this, but when I do it makes me smile. It makes me happy. I don't need anything from it. Nothing. I don't need nothin' from it.  I'm gonna express how I feel. And no one can do nothin' about it. I don't live in Putin's Russia. Whose gonna forgive all the dictators of the world who ever silenced free expression? Not me. I cannot forgive them. Forgiveness... that's another one I flew out on a string. It's just nosedived into another tree. Yesterday it nosedived into someone's dachsund, and the bloody metal point came like a dagger back into the sky. The dog, unresponsive on the pavement. The urge to kill somebody. To kill a murderous genocidal dictator. Up on a string. A dagger in the air. My desires do not much understand or care for what I need. I let them out into the sky, up on many a string. There was once one that got away from me. That one was the desire to manufacture my mood. It came up and out of nowhere, and gave me the power to control how I felt. I never wanted to feel blue. So I didn't for a long time. This one we call addiction. It got away from me, and sucked all the blue out of the sky. The sky was surreal and white. And bright. So bright I could not see. I could not see my desire anymore, camouflaged as it was to the sun. All I knew was I held the paper tube with the string hanging torn to the ground, and knew something was wrong. Then the white kite came charging like an off-white knight and the blade cut me down right in the street. Lying dead like the dog on the pavement. Bleeding from my head. All my other desires got away from me for a while. Nobody came for a while. I was surprised. Nobody retrieved my kites. Nobody wanted anything to do with me. They walked past and pretended not to look. Or they stared from afar. The other ones whose desires got away from the before, came to pick me up and dust me off and bandage my head. But the bandage was no good. Because the sky turned the deepest blue. You could not tell it from the sea. And the sky and the sea became one. Under a heated, urban sun. And I walked blindly along, bumping into street signs and lamps, feeling my way along the mortar between bricks to the edge of any building. Praying to god I would make it on the inbetween. And the sea was there taking me underwater and I was drowning. Only once I learned to use my primordial gills, to breathe underwater, could I accentuate my pain and really grope my way back to the truth. My desires do not care much understand. Only I can care for myself in the end. Then people see that. They come back around, when you start asking for help. When you start forgiving, and start forgiving yourself, too.