Where have you gone, my friend? Where have you run, and is it so much better there?
It used to be you and me. And that guy, and a few others, against the world. The whole world, all of it, with their stupid rules and stupider traditions- none of which we would follow. We would find another way, doing what we loved, getting disgusting rich. It was you and me, man. Where have you gone?
Marriage, that’s where. Mortgage. Working for a bigger car, or the newest addition to your house. A rat in the rat race, a brick in the wall.
By fate or coincidence, I haven’t lost our ideals. I am still the anarchist, the stubborn child fighting windmills. And I will forever, if for no better reason, to keep your memory alive. And I stand alone in my fight, because you crossed no man’s land somehow, slowly, and joined the other side. I can’t help but feel more betrayed by you, my friend, with every step that you take.
When I was younger, I was terrified that I would live and die alone. I felt myself getting used to it and it made me fearful, that one day I’d become desensitized to the pain of loneliness, and accept it as a way of life.
These days, I am beginning to realize that this is pretty much what happened. It is becoming apparent that I’m not fit for the little-house, little-garden, little-tree life. It seems that I will never be part of a family, let alone one of my own making. It’s an alien environment to me and I can’t function there.
And you know what? That’s alright.
I could pretend that it’s something I am willing to work on, something I would like to change. But maybe, quite likely, I have, after all, desensitized. I am still a slave to my need for affection, but I have let fly the willingness to conform for it.
The human race needs a flag.
On Mars and our moon, only American flags stand. They don’t flutter in the wind because there is no wind. They just hang there, droopily, representing a country as if the moon is theirs now, like a dog pissing on a fire hydrant.
Is this what we represent when we leave our doorstep? We Terrans, is this our calling card? Or does it just represent part of us, the richest, or the most successful?
If the Chinese would conquer Venus, should they put down their red flag? The Russians, their hammer and sickle?
What’s coming through is alive.
What’s holding up is a mirror.
But what’s singing songs is a snake
Looking to turn this piss to wine.
They’re both totally void of hate,
But killing me just the same.
I miss my son.
I’m not sure why but it hit me hard yesterday while I was talking about him.
It’s not so much the shit on my hands, or the screaming in my ear.
It’s some inexplicable sense of pride when holding him close, and that feeling of wonder when your fingers touch around him when you lift him up.