Stardust Motel

Stop the arguing, please.
I was working on the memory of the rhythm of her breathing,
When she's fast asleep.
So much sweeter than the sound,
Of people disagreeing.

Like the ghost of gasoline,
Stays clinging to your fingers
I'm haunted by the her whispers as well,
And I'm singing on my knees cause i don't have a prayer.
All along.
In the stardust motel

Wish I had thought of that.

Monday, November 30, 11:49, Nowhere

There is a chilly full moon. I wish I could capture the frosty light and hide it away forever.

The shadows cast are blank empty spaces. I can hide in darkness deeper than night.

The wind sighs like a hopeless old man. I wish had words of hope for you, Old Man.

A few last dead leaves rustle in the darkness. I'm sorry, leaves. I'm sorry you were left behind.

The grass is brown and flattened. I step and it does not feel my weight or rise behind me.

And, oh, the night is cold. I can feel the cold.

Rabbit

Not so long ago I found a rabbit.

Cute, confused, beautiful, and homeless, I fell for it like a ton of bricks stacked on an egg.

It was messy and wonderful, my rabbit and I.

I bought some newborn rabbit food and an eye dropper. I would sit and hold my little rabbit and coxe it to eat something. It refused. I insisted. We argued for hours.

The result of these interactions were both of us covered in sticky baby rabbit food formula (matted fur and sticky hands and shirt) with some small percentage ending up in its little tummy.

This process continued for some time. Funny rabbit. I smile. Sometimes it cuddled into me like I was the Easter bunny himself. Sometimes he would fight me tooth and nail and leave my hands spider-webbed with little scratches.

Silly boy. I was convinced that both responses were equally affectionate.

Rabbit grew. I'm afraid that was the name. And grew some more. My plans to race the world with him by my side were eclipsed by the nagging perception that Rabbit had reached a point where he would be better off without me.

Time to grow up. I hate it.

Rabbit left one day. I left the door open. Hoping he would stay, but I did leave the door open.

He left.

Funny thing. I lost my Rabbit. But I swear he hangs around. I see him from time to time. I know it's him. Cause I memorized his eyes. And when I approach to engage in conversation he listens carefully and doesn't run.

But perhaps I make things up for my own feeling's sake.

Puppy! Puppy... Puppy, why are your eyes so sad?

Puppy, Silly dog, cheer up! You're home now. You will be warm and safe and we love you so.
Stop looking so sad. Quit playing dead! Roll over. Wag your tail! Let's play fetch?

Don't mind the collar and the leash. That's just because we want your best. You ran away, Puppy. But now you are home. We care about you and will keep you safe and warm and fed.

We don't know what happened when you were gone, trespassing through dangerous, wild land, but it was very bad. It changed you, Puppy. Made you sad. But you are home now.

Puppy! Puppy! WHY are your eyes so sad!?

Don't Stop...

Against the backdrop of violets and reds I saw one sailing towards the dying sun. Held aloft by brilliant colored kites,
chasing the winds 200 hundred fight high.


I let go of my handle bars and waved wildly with both hands.

I hope you saw me. I hope it was you.

Montage (aka, Runaway Thoughts)

Life and light is so much better viewed through a vague opaque haze.

Why is there no rain pouring down my windows? Seems there should be.

Life leaves you broken, brittle, and dry
Some go in flames, some pass with a sigh.

But I think that I would like to fly... and never come down from the deep blue sky.

Standing on a chair punching at my bedroom ceiling. LET ME OUT! I always wanted skylights.

Hey, you can rely on me, Honey, cept. Guess you can't. Wilco, you are a liar. Give me my money back.

Spent an hour looking at sailboats for two. They are out of my price range.

As always.

I just wanted a car and music and nowhere to go. So beautiful, these mirages.

Holding my plastic flowers in sweaty palms, I stand awkwardly in front of the grave of Christopher Columbus. Clear my throat. "Um, sorry. Couldn't afford the real stuff. But I really appreciate what you did. Really. Yeah." But I couldn't care less right now.

I need some help. Serious, I think.

"Get him on the gurney! He needs a heart transplant ASAP!"

Love is a trap. And if too many people love you (one or more), you are bound to hurt them, hurt yourself, and hurt them.

And all I wanted was the beauty of the moon, the laughter of the stars, and a love that blossomed like the sun. Guess I set my sights too high.

Something is horribly wrong when you resent people for loving you.

Swinging makes me sick. And I'll regret till the day I die not getting sick.

I try not to sigh too much. It hurts my throat.

If you see my eyes, you'll know to stay away.

AH! RUN! Diseased!

Help, help, hel

Who am I?
What do I want?
Why am I?
What do you want?

Okay. Spinning too fast. Stop that. When you fling the thoughts off that fast they shatter on my bedroom walls. And that's wasteful and messy. Slow down! Stop!

Fine. I quit.

Elevator Ride 1.7

We are in free fall. The creaking and banging has escalated to a mind-numbing roar. With the increasing speed of descent, the temperature has plummeted unbearably . Ice instantly forms on the trusses and wires of the cage, and showers down upon us in stinging granules, knocked off by violent vibrations.

I lie still and quiet. Terrified. Frozen. Resigned. Death is imminent. And it will not arrive humanely.

"Do you want to be saved?"

The noise does not diminish, but the voice dwarfs it, not in volume, but in sheer strength and quiet authority. I do not know if it spoke directly to my mind or aloud, but the noise of splintering wood and tearing metal diminishes to background static.

"Do you want to be saved?"

The question seems irrelevant, but the the insistence of his voice compels a response.

"It's too late. I'm already dead. Look, listen... it's too late."

"No. It's not too late. As long as you can still hear my voice, how can it be too late? Do you want to be saved? Do you want a new life? Is there something in you that desires to live?"

There is light burning against my shut eyelids. I open my eyes. A million tiny shards of ice are reflecting crystal light as the fall and collide. We are dropping so fast they seem to float in absolute freedom from gravity. Shimmering and dazzling in an orchestrated dance of exquisite beauty and freedom.

I search for the source of the light. It comes from the lift operator. Gone are his cap and sad eyes. His face beams out power and light. His eyes shine with beauty and fierce love.

Its difficult to maintain the attitude of a corpse in certain circumstances.

I can feel His love and power penetrating into my skin, through my veins and arteries. Down into the deepest recesses of my dark being. And as it touches my heart, an explosion inside me so intense I am splitting apart. My heart screams as ice and rock shatter in excruciating pain. And then a feeling of life. The feeling of dead branches being cut off and new branches being shaped and nurtured. Life.

In the rage and beauty of my plummet with this being, as I lay curled with my knees pressed against my burning chest, as the harsh and sparkling ice crystals danced in the air, I saw life and desired it. I opened my mouth.

"Yes. I want to be saved."

Peace. Warmth. A feeling of gentle but intense upward flight. And then complete calm.
He reaches down and takes my hand, effortlessly lifting me to my feet. I stumble on unsturdy legs, but He does not let go. With His other hand He reaches out and lifts the slatted wooden gate of the elevator. Together we step out. I feel strength flowing through His hand into me. My body tingling with the power emanating from Him. We have come out onto the roof. A trillion blazing stars shine in miniature caracachers of the face of my guide.

I look out over the city with Him by my side. And now where do I go, I wonder. He feels my uncertainty, and with a smile, tightens His grip on my hand.

"We'll walk together."