find me missing

Astonishing how i found myself in my favorite blade in the couch again. then there was the case of the vanishing wristband, i needed it for a trail run cuz it has a secret zippered pocket where i keep my latchkey. the latchkey in me is base like bullion. when i searched for the key i found the blade. only in searching for an antidote to my general anxiety did i find the key. and yes, the key did more than let me in; it stymied the malaise i had worrying some stranger might be preparing to key my flat in the middle of the night and find me, missing.

a voice from the locked away place never to be accessed again. collected like ink into my pen

 i am now like a universe, elliptical and spinning, knocking over furniture, ending and beginning, smoking and sinning... i died to become only more who i am, i really died so i could be somebody, like a reduction of a simmer off a pan, buried with a spade, they threw flowers down upon me, above me where i layed, they left flowers on my stone, teardrops by my grave... and i still am, if only they knew i am alive now like a universe, elliptical and spinning, knocking over tombstones, ending and beginning, smoking and sinning... here comes the dawn, all i ever was to you is gone, and it's sad in different ways, we are going through the phases manifold, younger now i'm old and doing what i'm told and it's tiresome getting weary i will have to move along, sing another song, try to hit the high note and hold it very long... my sadness is unlike yours but it's sorrow just the same, and i love who i am and that will never change, i love the hell outta you, out of the cocoon so we can look up to the moon and see things clearly once again, when we were best friends... dear god the memory, if i linger it will kill me, kill me where i stand, on a high rise, rising, in Shanghai or Hong Kong or Dubai or Chicago or Mumbai or LA or NYC or Vancouver or Helsinki or Madrid or Firenze or Berlin or Amsterdam or London or Hamburg or Paris or Brussels or Vienna or Rome or Athens or Moscow or Prague or Warsaw or Dublin or Saigon or Toronto or Monte Carlo or Santiago or Copenhagen or Port au Prince.

may we never suffer the way we suffered then

all the experience has collected like ink into my pen, i can work it out on the pages, you and me, my friend, while the pot of oats now boils over, cascading down the sides, puts the fire out, and now in darkness hides. then we give it to someone who needs it. i hope you feel the same. fumbling with the keys to unlock the deepest mystery... never again. abstract and untouchable. that's okay. you are a little more like me. in fact i know you are, because of what we went through you are always with me, i am more like you, thank you for the lonely nights, gone! searching for something and finding something else. and loving that, too. now we know what we needed was not what we thought, not what we wanted! we may not have a key. let's leave it there, locked away forever. i think so. i think so... i am now like a universe, elliptical and spinning, knocking over furniture, ending and beginning, smoking and sinning. i think so.

Journal # 03.11.15

There was a devil in my dream. She was crying blood tears. She had missed the time change, apparently, and came late for the nightmare. And someone who had the key to my heart. I didn't wanna but I hadda ask for it back. He took it off the ring and pressed it politely into the palm of my hand. Right beside my lifeline. Which was cut short in the prime of my youth. I guess ima overachiever. Of life. With a case of noisey spelling bees.

What a dream. Someone liberated a big box store of its big screen tvs, and stored them in my home. I took back the key to my house. Placed it alongside the key to my heart. I cried a hundred tears, and not a one more. I watched the news today, oh boy. On a hundred tvs from China. They filled all the holes in Blackburn, Lancashire. Now people can bicycle around. A comedian in the States had done something wasn't funny. I just had to laugh.

A closed caption video transmit via Best Buy satellite. A hundred tvs had been displaced. I was watching the satellite feed on them. Feed on them. And though the news was rather sad, well, I just had to laugh. I snapped a photograph. A selfie. Of me watching the abduction of a hundred tv's, on a hundred tv's been abducted. I re-allocated myself to the bedroom. I unlocked my heart, before going to bed. Like usual. The doors to the house were all bolted, dead. The televisions all turned off. I slept without dreaming. And woke to love, in my heart, and stevia in my tea.