Wait

I walked back home from the death anniversary of a relative today. One of the great Sens, what a character he was. I didn't go for him, I went for myself. I wanted not to mourn his loss but celebrate all the wisdom and great habits he passed down to me, which I will someday pass on to the next lot. But maybe I'll save the story of the Great Sens for another time. It's too long and I'm much too stoned.

School.
Children going to school, returning home from school made me rather envious, a little depressed even. What makes a man great, is it not the love he has to offer? A childlike love? Doesn't his ability to wonder about the world, like a child, make him great?
I try. I try very hard. But it feels like I'm fighting a losing battle against all this instant gratification.
There is no love in our world.

Formless,
Unconditional,
Eternal,
love...

I try to fill the void in my soul with drugs, alcohol, sex. But none of it helps.
No time, in this world of fast cars fast food fast fucks fast highs.

Sometimes I wish I weren't this hopeful. 
The breakdowns have been getting harder to deal with lately.

The highs seem nauseatingly high and lows are gut-wrenching.
There is no escape.
I try to break out, every time but I cannot.

Circumstances.
I have noticed that the more money people have, the less they are able to love. There is a growing irritation that makes me reject them like they are outcasts. But I also feel a deep sense of sorrow, the inability to love can be the most confusing thing for a person.
People who have faced no real tragedy (and I pray to the universe they never do!) and are yet unable to love baffle me. What holds them back? Why can't they learn of unconditional love from a dog? Or their infant selves? Maybe they'll learn someday, their souls are still far too young.
Everything is zen if you put your mind to it.

Goodbyes are hard.
I suck at them.
Goodbyes can be so heart-breakingly sad sometimes. It's alright to cry I guess. It still breaks my heart to think that I never did get a proper chance to say goodbye. Sometimes people just leave. You have to figure it out on your own, without them at that point. Nearly four years later, I'm still in mourning. Knowing that I'll never find that intimacy with anyone else breaks me down.
It still hurts so much.
It still fucking hurts.

Maybe he's waiting for me on the other side. He's watching me as I fall and pick myself up every time. He's watching me as I make my mistakes and win my battles. When I finish my journey of this lifetime, he will be there waiting for me. With all the love he always had to offer. Maybe that is how this will end.
But I don't know.
I don't know anything yet. I am here only to believe.


Why does it always have to be so hard?
I want to believe, so bad, so bad.

This wait is endless.
I'm trying very hard to control myself.
I need a miracle, the signs are not good enough.
I need love, too.

Until Next Time

Feels like I'm making love, although I am not in love with him.
I don't know anymore.
I don't know anymore.
I don't want to know.

I'm strangely sober. I feel good.


Maybe it's this age, maybe it's his body, but I feel endless pleasure on an afternoon again.
Winter is almost gone, so is my melancholy.

Waiting

Downing my whiskey like there's no tomorrow.

But you don't care, you never did.

You're too old.

I'm too too young.

I don't want to get to where you are.

So cruel, so cruel, so cruel.

I don't want to be so cruel when I'm 30 fucking years old.

I want to love. I want to preach love.

Not like you, so jaded.

No games.

I want to live without all these games.

I love.

That's my thing.