Endless Bummer

1mg swallowed without water a second of regret and then bliss bliss blis
the music
im here on my own
ill never remember
im falling falling falling falling
have you have seen such a mixed up man such a mixed
futre future future future

a feeling like a dream like you aren't here like the back of your head wants to detach from the rest of your body
movement feels graceful although i know it isnt
like walking through the ocean and being pulled by the caress of the sea and its salts and its sands
my voice sounds beautiful so beautiful so lyrical
to dance is a marvellous thing, a noble thing
my fingers stroke and hit keys like beautifull elongated spiders who have been injected with caffeine
trying to sing along to the beautiful music but my voice fades and lags as it forgets the lyrics out of tune out of luck
i would just like to move to move my legs my feet my ankles to move them is a beautfiul thing but I wait till the cluttered thoughts are out of my head and onto a screen where they are immortal and don't die trapped in the mental crevices of my mind as most of my thoughts do

a glimpse of my frantically moving socks in the glass and a worry in my mind- what woould people think of me now, my brother, my parents, what if they were to see me like this? i ignore the thoughts, I repress it with the music that is speaking to me and that understands its significance in this moment
THE SCREECH OF THE VIOLA! i wait in anticipation like a child on christmas eve (surely an overused metaphor by now)
lou is speaking to me and I speak to lou
i dont know just where im going
it makes me feel like
things arent quite the same
FEEL LIKE JESUS SON
in this moment i understand lou, i understand his pains his woes his troubles his drug use i can see with all too perfect clarity
a raise of my head, I see the television screen from a thousand lives away a cartoon show
the music is steadily getting louder! working, all musicicans working, plucking strings with passion, all to give me the feeling that lou is trying to communicate to me and me alone
ITS MY WIFE
and my life better off than dead
i move around the small room, my fractured limbs struggling to communicate the beauty i feel, the viola is piercing a hole in my mind, everything falls the blood is in my head
I take myself away from the scene, lean against the winter glass and here myself clearly for the first time, my thin voice struggling to keep in pitch with lou and his magic viola
spiderwebs are in my hair and i take note but do nothing
i wonder if neighbours take sordid glances towards lou and i, imagining probably dancing and singing by herself, they are right but wrong a frantic feeling takes over me, to write, just to write, if i take my hands of this computer i dont know what will happen but i have to write,, to write, to communicate how visceral this experience is for me

my childhood home, changed, painted, a glaze of finish on top of everything, cementing my mothers vision of perfection
the screech of the viola and the toneless screech from my lungs come together and are simultaneouslt the same but so perfectly different always
be the death of me
a car engine in the distance, signalling that I stand and become normal but i couldnt bear it
my thousand year old baby's face in the mirror, mouth and eyes gaping
a sinkful of dishes that i resist plunging my unexperienced, virginal hand into, a punnet of red strawberries, a red line underevery word that i write
an incomplete poem, a poem, incomplete, written in haze, understood by one.
an unselfish need, born deep in the bowels of my mind, to protect others from the abnormalities of my psyche- forever