she put rocks in her pocket and walked into the New Hampshirian lake... cold and icy waters... or were they warm... for me they would have to be warm... and it would
take every bit of strength to open wide and inhale the hydrogen oxygen mixture into my lungs... I have to say I love the difference between water and air... sounds winds heats waves weight all read well in the subconsciousness of happenstance.... I took that lady monks advice and took suicide off the menu a long time ago... but I still think about it... still wonder what Virginia was thinking about as she chose each rock... maybe all she thought about was heavy enough... not heavy enough... heavy enough. And I know there was one... That one stone she missed that might have been smooth enough to ease her back out of the water but no... You know... She had someone who loved her here... so love does not make someone hang on... sometimes I imagine it must be too much to bear... to be loved so completely... It has got to be a kind of hell that buries just as well as feeling unloved...
I have come to a decision regarding how I am to be loved... and I think I want to become very clear in the matter so that there is no confusion... so that those who might have the nerve to venture close enough might understand... Whoever you are... What I am certain of about you is that you have loved me this entire time... though you might have had different faces and been different men... you are the same love that broke through into this dark veil with me at birth and I have every intention of letting you love me and I loving you until we break on out of here... but I will no longer look for you in the eyes of the unsure... nor will I wait for you to remain unsure... when you are finally brave enough... to love me... you will quit your days of faintly chasing me... and love me like you have always known you have.
They wanted to measure my cortical surface folding complexity...
and so they proposed to use spherical harmonic constructions to do so.
and when they presented me with a simple cube.... I moved quick to turn it into
Von Koch's snowflake curve... smiling at them in anticipation of a shared joy...
but all they were interested in was where to put the decimal point inside of my measurements.
They could not see how happy I was to be continuous everywhere but differentiable no where.
They could only see their paper being read by their professor and the reaction of my doctor.
Their cold prodding nature stung.
and so
I sought refuge inside of Gabriel's horn.
I reserved my Cesaro, my Fibonacci, my Takagi and my beloved Julia for those that would love me
and took my mind back from their heartless visions and left them with nothing tangible to handle.
From there it looks like catatonia but from here its all Huasdorff's dimension.
If you must judge me... it is imperative that you love me as well.
in the dream
Michael said " it aint gonna go down like that" or maybe it was me that said it but the gist of the conversation was bad. real bad and I woke up desperate to get him off the street.
he was in such a derelict state... he could have been anything by then... robber rapist redline
but I thought maybe ready.
and people pulled together and got him off the street and into a really great rehab
but he blew it
just like the dead people and angels said he would... in the dream... michael looked at me with this look like... you can chase him... but you wont catch him... and he almost said it... i know he was almost going to say it... to let it go... that it was not my gig any more... but he didn't and so I took off out of that dream fast.
it all went down the way they said it was going to... it even went down the way they said it wouldnt.
and they are not laughing at me... nor do they look sorry for me
they look like they are praying
they look like me praying
like the cells that die off so that the bone of a finger can be formed
some people will... and some will not.
Geofferson... there are no victims or saviors... there is only us and we were great.
We were a bukowski poem, a rothko painting, a mahalia jackson song.
remember me... but if you can get to a better place... then baby... just forget.
I wake up... its warm
I wake up and its gonna be a nice warm day in the sun.
you come down and untangle my hair so I try and untangle yours
and for a while thats what we do.
after a bit we give up and decide to feed ourselves instead.
and I love you and you love me.
and I dont know any junkies, thieves, drunks or killers
and you dont either.
there are no such things here
there are no such things here
there are no such things here
and as per your request
here under this warm sun...
you are not the you I cry for...
that you I set free.
I believe
that what ever loved me there
loves me here still
and what ever loved me there
loves me here still
yes whatever loved me there
loves me here still
and it is a good thread that pulled itself through me
that I should be able to have the things that I can see
here awake under this warm sun
you make getting the tangles out
awfully sweet and awfully fun.
it happens because it is easy to fall in love with strangers
easy to pretend there is everything to hope for
as you ride on the rush of nothing to lose.
ah beauty.
beautiful words
beautiful looks
you forget what you look like for a moment
as you strain your neck to hear what they are only mouthing to you
you miss it all.
and there is something simultaneously occurring when you miss it all
One... you have no idea who or what they are
and Two... you like it that way.
unreachable is all that is left here on Terra.
The burnt and tattooed body of an angelic chanteuse
levees the fortress of the cryptochrome-dome
and sweet lullabies us all into oblivion.
the echoic beats transform into a
transient purring and it is so easy now to just bleed right on through.
it was not love we sought
it was death
that morning... and all them vultures in the sky...
