This is how a sage is formed this is how a saint is born as you slumber in your cocoon of suffering walled in by your own spittle and shite twitching twisting thrashing catching your own tail and devouring the world’s collective knowledge it stirs that fierce, dark intelligence it lurks that savage, holy brilliance caged in body and yet free to roam the ether pierced by angelic spears and transfixed with visions past, present and yet to be.
I hear your eyes turning toward me I feel your ears tuning into my signal I see your hands as they reach upward holding your heart as your only offering (small sacrifices for our imperfect artifices) I perceive your thoughts and your apprehension but release your fear and rejoice my friend this trail of agony is your path to ascension.
For when I’ve read everything for when every page is familiar for when every story is predictable for when every sentence completes itself I have found the place to retreat to this house’s best and only seat where I am and I shall remain and compose myself to peace.
You will return although your path may wander you will rise although your heart may falter you will grow although your world is smaller you will survive although your thoughts are stolen you will rebel although your cause is forgotten you will decide although your mind is troubled you will endure although your soul is wounded you will shine although your light is shrouded you will return.
Among the restful scrub where instinct has now lead me where all my life has guided me to make my final bed to seek my lasting rest I know nothing of reflection I know nothing of desire only my tenebrous recollection preserves me from despair.
Curling into this familiar earth comforting myself in torpidity a hush has fallen the wild is calling hunting grounds so far away and a lifetime left long behind weary from my relict existence becoming myth in my own time I surrender.
Dysfunctionally now extinct an endling yet not unique there is no solace in my solitude there is only a dreadful peace and as I commence this caliginous descent I wonder am I to become your trophy or am I sandwich meat?
Writing in repose whispering snippets of old lyrics a soft rasp without a tone a sliver of spirits a slight and gentle bite familiar and warm a broad and formless night disguising a creeping horizon a heart-shaped ashtray balanced to one side.
No rest for the pickled
sleep when you’re bread
or late night survivor
your pillow sandwich head
while daylight spreads
stubborn and begrudging
as reluctant to rise
as you are to shine.
I ate a dozen apples
devouring one after another
until their sweetness turned sharp
stinging in my jowl, my clenched jaw
aching with mechanical motion
like a cow grazing meditatively
I glutted myself with flesh and seed.
I slept all through the week
embracing each day like a pillow
clutched tight to my face
holding back a flood of contrition
reflexive jerk reaction to self-reflection
I padded my cell with layers of slumber
for a soft landing in the sea of dreams.
I burnt all of my blazing currency
flippant in a spiraling frenzy
until the lights blinked out
in one black moment, nothing
contained squarely and photo framed
until I broke my way out and awoke
famished, befuddled and alone.
By the side of the river we began to unwind
as we pulled at threads throughout the night
and tearing down shibboleths
we ignited the silence with our backyard science
and explored the cosmos with beer in hand.
“Become who you are” he told me once,
“There are no guarantees.”
Every limb was a story or a shopping list
twisted missives composed in faded ink
we spent another day dissecting lyrics
reading signs buried between the lines
in the simplest conversation.
Our shared delusions drove us to the edge
and our hidden truths reunited us again
down by the water’s end
unsteady, drunk with bubbling joy
“Mi casa es su casa” he said,
“Stay as long as you need”.