Superman's Dead.

Superman's Dead.

It's been a while since I've been up at midnight, smoking cigarettes, listening to music, and letting my head bleed ink onto paper. (As it were.)
Today after packing my life (or local world perhaps. However you choose to see it.) into boxes, I had some time to think. About where things are headed. About where I'm headed. I used to think that the future held mostly this for me.


But as time has gone on and time has worked its magic on me. For better or worse. I've changed. I wonder sometimes whether it really has been better or worse. I'm still undecided. I think sometimes that this is more than likely what the future me will be closer to.


My thoughts quit running towards who would be in my future outside of my babies, family, and friends. I wonder now if there might be horses. I've had feelings ripped across my back. I've held myself while they held someone else. I've stood alone; waiting. Wondering. Wishing. I've played that game. And now that I've flipped the table and gone home, the game just isn't that attractive anymore. Every time I thought, "I'm giving you myself." I never saw that in actuality I was losing myself. Throwing myself away. And for what exactly? What did I ever have to show for any of that? Spent rubbers? Ruined sheets? Rosy skin? I'm still not sure. Nothing really tangible.


These days my bones creak when I get out of bed. But strangers love to point out how I don't look my age. "That's great dude, now can you please shut the fuck up and put my stuff in boxes?" You'd think with the booze, smoke, and abuse I've put my body through, I'd look like I was 70. But, I only feel that old. My joints feel twice that in the rain. Well, and with the horny. Sooner or later, I'll crush my instinct. No longer a HOTANIMALMACHINE. I'll just be a MACHINE. Someday. At least, that's what I tell myself. But you and I both know, that the we lie to ourselves better than anyone else can.

"I remember falling.
I remember marching.
Like a one man army."

This year, amidst preparing to receive my life back into my own hands, I also discovered that broken dreams taste like broken teeth. It was a bit freeing to give up on a few things. I have a niece now. She's like the daughter I always wanted, but finally gave up on. It's just not really feasible at my age to have more kids. At least that's what I've been told. And it sounds pretty damn reasonable to me.

So, right cross, followed by a few jabs, and that one's KO'd. "Don't cut it Mick. It doesn't need to see." It's dying and being born again all in one moment to let go of things like that. Perhaps that's where I went. I haven't bleed into the ether for a while. Maybe that's where the blood went. Where my pulse went. Who knows? for now though, bedtime. Hopefully my sleep will be like my days. Dreamless.

"you need to understand there's nothing strange about this
you need to know your friends.
I'll be waving my hand watching you drown.
watching you scream, quiet or loud."