Mr SomebodyPosted: October 7, 2010
When I first met you I felt as though Mr. Somebody had arrived,
you opened a window. My lungs greeted the air, a lucid
fluctuation of fresh breath. I told you so and we would make
poetry and give words like jewels to decorate my days and they
would flutter into the night like drunken fireflies.
We wandered into the tattoo parlor at 2am on a Tuesday. I had a
compass put on my ankle and you said I was like a Sunflower in
an old folk’s home, that I meant something to people on a daily
basis. It was then I dove into your oceanic eyes, two pools of
the pacific and I had no idea of the depth. I had no idea I was
about to get so lost. My compass Tattoo a scar that leaves no
room for regret but finds me in the Doctor’s office asking, why
can’t I find my way?
I lived with you Mr. Marine for ten months. I saw the death in
your eyes and you saw mine and we were mirrors of a fantasy. All
the colors of paradise are now held in circles on my skin. We
wanted to be Saviors but no amount of prayers could be an answer
to hands when words and objects are thrown across the room.
I wanted to shield you from the carnivorous wind and said I
would rather burn myself out trying to keep our light aflame.
But the winds took my meat and my wick is now ash and
all fragrance of the flowers bought, of incense burnt, became
smoke. Smoke spirals over broken heads with no place left to
I walk the sanity tight rope through the temples of my head. My
tattoo compass leaves no constellation only stars lost to the
blind of day. I don’t know where you are – locked with me in our
corners of the world. I want to call to you without sound or
message – only to call to you from my corner. Sat here with
smokes and ghosts and thinking I see your car knowing you may as
well be on the moon and I should be happy to leave you there. I
am lassoed in a different orbit. My swollen wrist has just
settled but your finger marks are still there, they are a
testament to a lesson I lesson with tears and thoughts of you.
Through your gentle holograph of arms, I fell and fell because
it made me feel alive. To stay with you would have been the
death of me, or so it seems but the line is a blur
all I see are funeral plumes and the clouds are shrouds to my world.
I feel I drowned in your tender tidal waves. A refugee in my own
skin on my raft in the expanse and my dog is the only one there.
Another day in the life of crazy and I submit to the seconds as
they find me looking into the distance, wishing I was there. As
though a mirror shattered and fell and I look down at the
fragments and wonder how to piece together the reflections of
mind, body and heart. They say time will heal and time is all
that is left. I lost my books. I lost my love. They say I am
free now, but freedom is a state of mind and comes at a price.
And so I put this on my blog, I read it at a cafe because if you
can hear me, and others can read it too, maybe I can borrow their
eyes to see myself again?