Ramblings

I'm writing this purely out of jealousy.
A feeling that is generally so rare for me that I don't know what it feels like. It is not one of mine my prime motivators. It's something I generally have contempt for on the deepest possible level.

And yet... Here we are.

A dear friend wrote some pretty words. Two days in a row he wrote some pretty words, and as I read them I felt the words welling up in me.

But they are not pretty.

They are words about transmuted flesh and the severed hands of God.

They are rusted iron knives and axes made of stolen bone.

They are carapaces of jade hiding the madness bloated wreck of what should have been a heart.

They're words about love. About a play. About the pain and expense involved in survival.

I fell in love. As I usually do. Warm feeling slipping in the cracks in my armor. Someone who made me not just want to be but feel like a better person.

I wrote a poem for them. But I didn't show them. Not really. I threw it into the digital tide. I hurled it into the ether. Because I wanted them to see it, but I was too cowardly to show it. Something that should have been fake, was fake, had suddenly become terrifying, heart-wrenchingly real.

Love is easy. It's cheap and fast and overwhelms like the salt in those enlarged fries that you know you don't need but bought anyway. But you'll always come back. Cause you're hungry and love is food.

What's hard is everything else.

Logistics. Attraction. Relationship. Homemaking. Scheduling.

That's the rub. That's where it all falls apart. And the last one Compatibility.

That's the kick in the teeth. That's the severed hand of god.

They are earth and horse and flowers.

Whilst I am a hurricane of rusted metal and jagged bone crammed into a defective meatsuit.

I am ever so slowly exploding. I have little more to offer than madness and love. And that will never be enough.

And that's okay. It'll all be okay. Cause one way or another...

We're all just stardust in the end.