March 3rd 2012
I would like to cover your heart with shields of smilies and build you and your family yours, theirs, hopes and dreams. We are all broken. Even you, and your steel. Everyone rusts, marks easily. Some fade, some walk the lines in despondence towing or seating an invitation list to invisible monsters.
You could be ten thousand kilometers away, or just behind the thickness of the plastered walls, inches, and I would still miss you. You are my Juggernaut. I learned the true definition of this word this evening. Begin definition : : ‘a massive inexorable force, campaign, movement, or object that crushes whatever is in its path ‘ You crush my fears, and doubts and hold my heart, make translucent my scars, I swear you you help push the capillaries, and distinguish the reality from foolery. By feather folded arm and armory and through layers my arms know there is no more delicate place of restitution when you are there and my soul is safe. No longer objectified my boots are always less dense and when Life gets too much I and fold, capitulate, You, even when dusty, (I am sorry) You are, have been my home plate. You literally hold me together. Fucking glue – Araldite. (pretty super) Part A and Part B. perhaps articulated glue… The pulse should be on the inside, the blood doesnt stick to my viens, and I cannot contain. You do, You taught me difference between Respect and Regard, not only regard but a billion other things, my brain doesnt retain, archive maybe for days like this, muddy puddles, so much fucking rain. There I go me, fuck, Push and push and push sea-sawing and. I hope you are well, and loved and transience follows you wherever you ebb and flow. Look for the horizons and the contour and the smoke stacks.. pattern alas none. Maybe you’re cool and collected and not on fire, and I hope your embers will always rise up and trade places, faces, currents with the winds, burn bright, you’ll fight the good fight. Riot for more and be the well of lost plots that holds the pennies for the wishes..
I cant begin to imagine what your living or have lived, we lose ourselves the most in those we love. Fucking hate that. Maybe I’ll hold you’re wishes and dreams and hopes and ambitions in my pinky and and the leaves that you have missed, you’ll have to ask the dust. Kick Glass Jars of transparency.
I am sorry, did u know that. I dont know how many times i’ve screamed in my head, breathed and bled. You know people say you shouldnt apologize for who they are, well, some simply should, I am the threshold. Does it make it any better. Letter over fucking letter. Word word word word word. eh. Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry. Some people are just bad. Bad, seed. Core, apple, whore. Listless. I should stop hurting those around me. Unlovable. That makes me soulless.
I genuinely am sorry.