Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Last Night is This Morning

Last night is this morning. I can't shake the voices. The Choir chants loudly in a language I do not understand. I went to a Church gathering on Friday night. It was ok, but I still felt out of place. Nowhere seems to fit right, at least to me. I'm still consumed by what could have been me instead of consuming myself in who I am. Every night I remember my glances at the summit. I was close, so close I could smell the moss gathering at the very tip of the very highest spire. I felt like I'd climbed Jacob's ladder, but I just felt the slip instead. I watched myself go from Demosthenes the Modern to a stuttering, fixated, obsessive, paranoid joke. My pen is the last option I have to explain myself. Furthermore, it is the only part of me worth explaining anymore. I cling to it; it's all I have left of who I was. I know it can't save my ideas, though. The pieces, be they poems, blog entries, or essays, always take on a life of their own. I meant for this entry to be about who I was before, but I've forgotten so much that I can only expose what I am now. I don't know why I think someone willing to share with me can make me better, even if I'm happier. Every impulse tells me that I am alone. We'll see.


dsquared said...

hang on in there my friend.

Your travelling company said...

But I don't care who you were. I only care about who you are now.

Who you were is gone, and no matter how much you describe or try to explain, it doesn't matter that much to me.

Who you are now is what I'm able to know, and it's the person that I'm interested in knowing.