A Death.

There was a Death in the Family
Excuse me if I Choke Up...
Not that I have any Memories of Him,
He was a Cousin in My Youth
But have you ever met a Man at His Funeral?

You ever seen a family Mourn?
Well.. You ever seen Mine?
We're loud though,
But We Cry Silent..
Silent like a Heart Attack in a 25 year old,
Or like a livid mother,

Or a teenage son.

Have you ever Met a man at His Funeral?
Seen his Sin's mother cry..
Well a Beautiful one, Both of Them.
A Sin overlooked and a Son accepted.
Like Father like Son..
Only the Father Lived Longer.

And you and I know a Beautiful Woman's Cry is Potent
And if you didn't..
Fuck you.

But Please.
If you Want to Meet A Man...
hehe...
I guess I could word that better.

But Yes.
Meet Him Before His Funeral.

Freud

The Thirst.
As the Hormones Flow
Logic Ebbs..
The Great Sea of Swirling Energy.
Longing, Passion,
Viewing the World in Black and White
And Anatomy in Colour.
Lust of the Eyes.
Interpreting, her Shape and mine
Flowing with the Tide.
Saying in one ear,
Whispering.
"Let's Tessellate."

Libido.
As he called it.

Now, I am no Oedipus,
And She no Electra.
But the Id demands that Thirsts be Met,
Hungers Quenched,
Fixations Realised,
Pleasures Explored.
And now neither Egos disagree.

And Libido's tides Crash loudly against the Bedhead.
Moaning Melodies of (Over)Indulgence
Muddled Conflicts,
Yeses and Nos.
Melting Together..
Painting the Ambience Visible...
Whether on Rose Petals or Concrete.
Same Picture.
..
Libido, The Pleasure...
Their Crests and Troughs
Paint the Heart's Pulsing ...
May it never Flat Line...
Then the Audience Cheers as the Ceremonial Glass is Raised.
Then we Pretend to Drink?
Because the Thirst seems Eternal,
Does it not?

Whenever that Oral Fixation Sprouted 
And Love became all Lip Service...
Though Time won't tell us.


Pleasure Drives Us.
He said.

And Now more than Ever...
He's Right.

Summer Night Reflections

I'm not sure about Anyone Else,
But it's the Nights I look forward to in Summer.
The Days are too Imposing.
Striking.. Temperature-wise.
Cooler is Better
For the Thoughts, at least.

So I'm up at about an Hour past Tomorrow.
Wait. It's Today now.
Funny how Trivial Time is when you have Nothing to do with it.
And how much we Crave Occupation...
Or just Wage.
But that's Aside from the point.
It's Late...
And I don't Night Walk alone, either.

Walking with Friends is always Interesting...
And less Time Conscious.
And it's a Strange group of Human-folk
I Call Friends:
Hedonists, Zealots, the occasional Heretic.
A mixed crowd
...
And maybe a Dangerous one.
But Danger aside
They make Good Conversation.

And Conversation is Hard to Find in a World of Talk.

Aside from the Time and the Friends...
The Night is missing an Element.
Though I can't Hear the Night's Whisper
Over the Roar of my cheap Headphones
Oh... That's it.
Music.

It's a Nocturne
From an Otherworldly Orchestra..
Much Heard, Little Talked About.

Time,
Friends,
Music,
Everything's here.

Somebody get the Liquor...
It's a Summer Night.

Headache

My Head is Killing me.
And it's not so much the Pain that Hurts.
But the Betrayal.

And my Funeral will be one of Dark Colours,
and Silent Music.
Not Sorrowfully Though.
"He only Sleeps"

Sleep... No. Rest is what I need.
Kryptonian Resurrection at Daylight
Though the Sun is my Kryptonite.
It's a Love-Hate relationship..
I am the Hater.

Though I'm still not a Fighter.
Barely a Lover.
So my Title may be a bit Complex at that Junction.
Or I'm overthinking.

The Betrayal.

Or maybe I Had it Coming.
 

Quirk

I guess we're all a Bit Twisted

Out Of Shape
Out Of Mind
Out Of Tone
But the Little Dents and Twists
Make every Set Piece Different.
And Believe Me:
I Love The Quirk.

Not that I really expect Requited Love.
But then again,
Love is Taboo.
The World runs on Eros.
So Why Bother.

And even if I'm Physically Stagnant
Everything else is Screaming,
Bouncing off Walls,
Gnawing on a Straightjacket.
Not that I'm Crazy...

I'm Just A Little Quirk.

And probably the Only One I'm not particularly fond of.

But then again,
There's a part of all of us that Relinquishes the Novel.
We all seek for the Different.
Our Boundaries are just Individual.

We are All A Little Craz  Quirky...
Even the best of us.


But the best of us Enjoy it.

Love Lost

I've Watched my Grandfather Mourn the Last of his Coffee.
The Last Scoop.
The Kettle Over a Medium Flame.
Slow to Boil.
He Watched the Water.
He Sighed.
The Weekly Funeral Procession.
Taking the last of the Bottle to it's Murky Grave.
He Sipped It's Eulogy.
But Remained Strong.
He Never Cried.
Never.

A Lost Love.

Lost

Just Another Day...
Week...
Month...
Another eon.
Here, Just sauntering around...
Comfortably.
then Hurriedly.
then Panicked.
"Are you looking for something?"
"Aren't we all?"

A Passion,
A Love,
A Home,
A Family.
A Sense of Belonging.
"So, What are you looking for?"
"Nothing."

It's all Lost.
In the Talent,
The Intellect,
The Friends,
The "Friends",
The Loneliness,
The Complacency,
The Sentiment,
The Apathy.
"Are you sure?"
Haha, "Ofcourse."

Those Feelings.
The Blush at the Thought of a Name
The Rage at the Mention of a Place
The Nostaolgia at the Texture of an Old Gift.
Those Connections.
The Faces which have Names.
The Places which have Memories.
"So, why're you here then?"
Umm,"Just taking a walk"

The Lies.
"C'mon you know you can trust me?"

Life Isn't a Game.
But it reminds me of a few.
"Tell me, what're you looking for?"