A prayer

Emmett lies in my bed softly snoring.

I tried sleeping next to them but the falseness of my affectation/affection thickened my blood, congealing with self loathing and self disgust. I stiffened as the panic started to rumble out of my belly, through hollow bones and blood, through steel piping and concrete, through emptiness and stagnancy, up into my mouth with the taste of bile, vomit, and pain. I flicked to my phone, counting seconds against my heat beat. The harsh glare drew daggers of shadow against the wall. I hald my breath as if my turmoil could wake emmett from their slumber. But no. I was alone.

I am alone. Sitting by my computer to snap shot this moment for the sake of posterity. Sometimes I wonder if this is my long term performance art piece or an archive of past pain or the ink for some new story yet to be written. I write for the person I am now, to remind a future me of who I was. I disappear each night and am reborn each morning, a clone with 23 years of memory and 24 hours to live. Will this day be remembered. Will I have made a difference in the course of one man’s life? Most days fade into nothingness or worse, a single frame in a montage of life. But I burn this midnight oil and type out these words in the hope that I will not be forgotten. That the pain that I feel, the panic in my gut, the emptiness behind my eyes will stand out. Change the course of one man’s history. Or at the very least leave an imprint.

But while I wax philosophical, I am constantly pulled back into the milieu of social hunger. I am starved. I am ravenous. Every time I click back to facebook or even glance up at it’s tab, I am shedding my pride one scale at a time. Oh God, please let her be awake. Let her be online. Let her just talk to me. Maybe that will make the pain go away. Maybe that will make everything work. Maybe that will fix the brokenness.

But of course not. That ship has sailed. That bridge has been crossed. That milk has been spilled. That jam has been mixed and once it’s been mixed there is no unmixing it. I don’t want this feeling anymore. This longing. This love. But I miss her. More and more with everyday. And I’m trying so hard to forget you. I’m in a relationship. I have sex. I kiss and almost say I love you. But they aren’t you. They will never be you. And that is the point I guess.

I miss you/her. I miss the way we could talk about theory and art and thought. I miss the way you made me laugh and think. I wake up from dreams of kissing you. I blurt out your name on the street. I see her on the street that she once lived on in the faces of people who pass me by.

But this doesn’t solve any problems. In fact it might be making them worse. It’s hard to tell. But I have no one to tell.

Oh God oh God oh God

Will God call my hollow name from his risen throne

will trumpets sound

when the day is done

on this poor bastards head

or will he -me- rot in the weeds, the flour and barley.

chaff and chaser of whiskey to ease

the pain of some debt in debt to debt.

I wander down this road of mine while people pass me

some walking just as fast

ignoring the calls from behind

ignoring calls from behind

For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever





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