Past Gone

It makes me sick sometimes to think about it. Can’t think about emotion. Lighthouse swept away. I have to be the light, the rock, the foundation. I have to be cool, cold, transcendent, ascended. Don’t give it away. Why waste energy creating gifts that float in the ether, disappear, dissipate, evaporate?

I want to hate you today. I want to scream FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! I wonder if anyone ever felt this way about me and me so oblivious. I guess I earned it. I worked to hard to get here, to this day when I’d want to say FUCK YOU. And maybe in another decade or so I’ll fall this far again. I am not giving up you shit! I know too much. I know I can’t ignore this, move on, fuck it, or fuck it up. You fucked it up, maybe, out of harmony. Or it was my dream with the gods alone, but baby! Baby! Baby! What I want what I want what I want you and to be back in California and to be the way I was the way I am wanting to be in perfect harmony with all that is. And you I make you uncomfortable because I love you. Why do you go on chasing clouds when I’m right here? Do you doubt this? I can’t believe you don’t know about that thing. Baby, I’m crying. I’m so homesick. Why did this happen at all? What stupidity of career building led me here? What the fuck am I trying to do here really? So bullshit trying to do things the right way. I want to go home. I was just another dream to you there, less real, acceptable, desirable.

The wound is bullshit. I am done with it. I destroy it. Baby, I love you!

Fool may be my middle name, but I’d be foolish not to say.

Nostalgia and hope stand equally in the way of authentic experience.

Baby, I hope you’re having some genuinely authentic experiences. Oh, wait, I’m not supposed to hope. I know you are. Standing here by the pines yearning for the earning while learning how to jive the Kentucky vibe.

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