There’s no truth to the fact that you’re a remote visage, is there?
That’s what my brain says but we argue all the time
and I’m tired of taking sides.
Woke from a nap with a suicide hangover
and half a wisdom tooth under a veneer
of post-coital laughter,
knowing you never existed but that
I’d always try to get back to you.
Knives can’t do the job
when the job is among the ghosts,
but at least the nervous system
can’t differentiate between now and 20 years ago.
Without an answer of substance
we keep pushing into darker corners,
trying to revel our nightmares are anything but,
only to find they’ve been feeding on themselves
until there’s nothing left beyond fear
and the suppression of reckless behavior
that used to make us feel alive.
Now nothing can numb us to the horrors
of yesterday
without causing side effects the devil himself
would long to disperse to the most wretched among us.
Yet,
there must still exist a kernel among our cells
seeking to continue
to connect
to live
to see the past for the past and the present
in the most vivid of colors,
incaptureable and unrecreatable by humanity.
Know we’ll get out,
all of us,
and we’ll bring you with us too.

– February 20, 2024

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