Love Poem 4

I’ve fallen in love with that sweet smell of

stale liquor and

day old cigarette smoke that

always

has a way of clinging to my clothes and

my skin and

my hair and as much as

I could never wait to get it out of my system and off my body,

there were so many mornings

where I said

this is what I want

and

this is what fills me up

and

this is what really really makes my heart pound.

Risky nights and risky behaviour

and wild actions with big consequences.

There is only so much I can really worry about in those

funny times

and I’ll be damned if I worry too much about

what the day after tomorrow might bring.

I barely think about the next minute, let alone

another day or another night.

Even with that mindset, I still avoid

the moment,

the present,

the important.

The right now is my least favourite place to be and I wish

I could exist ethereally,

where I can be any time anytime,

where I can be anywhere and any where,

where I can be anyone, anybody, and any body,

where I can exist

energetically,

sonically,

even through a beam of light.

But, the closest I can get is induced dissociation through

sound ritual,

forced exhaustion,

and drugs, alcohol, and questionable friends.

I think that is the truest expression of love and feeling,

just living free,

letting the spirit go and letting it all fly.

Dive bars, cheap cigarettes, ditch weed, bad concerts, malt

liquor.

The ticket gets punched somehow, some way, any way,

so taste in the matter, so to speak, holds

little sway.

In this world of

sour illusion

does it matter how we find the middle of the middle?

Will we gatekeep for those trying to ascend and transcend?

Silly question.

Of course, we will.

Regardless of whether or not

we are all just faking our way through,

just trying to find the things that fill us up and

trying to exist

in that moment between moments

and trying to let what will be,

just be.