How could we have known?

The hits we took

the high we flew so long on,

How could we know

what we would become of us

when the inevitable end

came to claim us?

The nights we huddled

together

for warmth,

under the freeway,

where we lived.

How could we have known?

That upon the leaving

of our shunned life,

and the arrival

of all our hopes

and dreams,

we would lose each other.

That what kept us together,

we left behind,

somewhere at the intersection

of Venice and La Cienega.

The crevice opens wide,

yawns; tries to mold itself

to my size.

It's deep,

and it's dark,

but it beckons to me,

wants me,

yearns for me.

And alas,

as I fit nowhere else,

I sigh,

open my eyes to

cry at the worthless sky,

and defeated,

exhausted,

I slide inside.

Alone now

with my music

So the silence

doesn't deafen me.

Releasing myself

into the wild

Of the unknown,

where my knowledge

has always been aware that this

is where the Hope lives.

The scope of loss

can reveal

that there is so much more

to be found,

it just takes a little adjustment,

a little focus,

a little blur,

to break through illusion,

watch your Soul reappear.

Every time I wake up,

I'm someone new again.

I'm losing myself,

forgetting myself,

letting my

autopilot

kick in.

Where is my core?

Where is my Soul?

Where is my pain?

My fault,

Didn't stay in touch with myself

Let time pass by,

goes so much faster

than I thought it could.

A stranger to yourself

is a unique kind of loss.

Doing things without meaning,

Still in Life,

but somewhere, stopped living.

I know there was a struggle,

unrelenting,

never ending.

Is this the result,

my unidentifiable self,

Out of all the unknown,

for which I was striving?

In that surreal paradise,

between

asleep and waking,

in suspended animation,

a Soul whose faith

had not yet been shaken,

I crouched above

the world

saw paths I had

never taken...

I scowl at the backyard,

tools cluttering up

my view of nature.

I move them out of the way.

I double-take at the mirror,

showing me this tired reflection.

I turn away.

The scenery on my way to work, on the way to the

grocery store, on the purposeful detours

heading the wrong way,

All look the same.

All around me,

the same, same, same.

I focus on stunting my brain,

attempt to trick my memory,

try not to know

that it's never going to change.

I allow the pictures of you

to seep into my mind,

hear your voice

that gave birth to my name.

Letters forming sounds

that ascertain

I can still feel pain.

The darkness looms

menacingly,

blotting out your image,

So happy and carefree.

I backpedal furiously,

can't close my eyes

to what's inside of me.

I must remove

what I don't want to see.

And when I open my eyes

again,

I am blind to everything

in front of me.

I ask this question in the stupefied amazement of one who believes that such a thought could not have possibly ever existed before...

"Why?!"

"Why!?". "Is it so fucking hard?" "Why?!". "Will you solidify my ache, capture my Soul as it breaks?".

Is this a method which takes the place of a blind, fervent grace?

Is this what it takes?!