Le Tour de Passe-Passe
Well I’ve wanted for a while to write this just for you, but cleverly disguise it from exactly you know who. I gotta get those stolen clues back to her somehow. If only I could show her those greater sides of me, those bits and blocks not cramped between the corners and the clocks. I want to spend a spell to save her from the hell of fake gods who’d gladly kill us back. O! [insert your name here]…
I bubbling up get caught in follies that now would stain my cheek, that chill my heat, that send me to oblivion’s cruel feast. But this is life, and I am learning still, yet a pupil at the helm, lost as now things lies to me, frost that now would spy on me, ensuring misdirection as I struggle not to overwhelm. Ten thousand blind controls all stare back at my raisin-wrinkled brow. Faster? Slower? Clearer? Vaguer? Where’s my lighthouse lover anyhow?
I had one once, a someone who I cared for and a someone just for me. We listened well, were there through hell, and helped one another in this world where nothing’s free, except for that of which I gave to her back then so true and unconditionally. O! how my home love ripped from me. ’Twas then that I stood perpetually -alone- so very far from home, from all of what I once could call my own. Please! Oh please. How I just wanted to be loved again. I’m craving to be touched, to be accepted, understood, to be valued, to be cared about, and maybe found in this dark wood. Yes, I’m only human, but human enough to bear the strength and admit that I’m not perfect, admit that I am struggling out here on this vast and terrible -alone-
Loneliness now drives my frantic desperation. But O! how careful have I been while suffering through maddening impatience. The trials I have weathered deserve those gentle antidotes so ripe in their affections. It stresses me all out, but still I spell it out in mystery’s brand new letters. I’ll never say a word until I know that each is heard by ears rejoicing in the news.
O! dear gods of panting desperation how I curse you all! I’m not some sex-crazed ape. No, no, no, ’tis that you’ve got all wrong. For though I’ve had a taste of what that pleasure’s like, ’tis not its flavor nor its feeling from which I drew addiction’s spike. I longed for love, I longed for fun, for how it shone just like the morning sun, once upon a time. And I long right now for what once I was in her life’s broken story rhyme. I’m addicted to the sacrifice, addicted to the pain, and addicted to the bits of smashed humanity that persist through sorrow’s driving rain. Yes, I’m starving for a lover in a void of other strains.
Life, this is now a note, a note once wrote for her. As these very words bleed across the page, they’re sent gushing forth by a heart that pounds against the walls of its white-padded cage. Let me out? Let me out. Let me out! ’Tis all my ribs can do, contain the throbs of fear that bludgeon from inside us as we gaze into the flame shared by every pair of kindred eyes. Refusing to surrender while cast hopelessly adrift in the fury of your waves, this, dear life, gives purpose to our cries and what courage truly craves.
Racing still, yes we’re racing still, to destinations just beyond the page, where next begins another climax and its exciting rage. Flailing now are happy hearts, not A but BACK, into their new and wily parts. Today, today, a life I live a’blooming and along, yet sometimes lived dismayed and all a’wrong. These broken arms, these broken bones, were solid once as mighty stones. I squirm, I crawl, but dammit man, I’m human after all. My friends and foes are of those who I’d never wish to see soon fall, for its the fellows on the street who lack the courage to be neat, unique, or individual who I can’t stand at all. Let’s together vanquish fear with knowledge held so dear. Please give me just one hint as towards this grave disaster I sprint ever near. Yes, I’m dying a little bit each day, I’m terrified of the hand too soon to play, but most of all I’m tortured by all of what I’ve yet to say.
Though my pen and ink are all I have to play, my world has grown colorful with fantasy and fray. The stresses pushing on, the desires tearing strong, the hinges that swing open-closed, open-closed as shamelessly I looked at you. Open-closed, open-closed as foolishly a concoction was imagined by two igniting hearts. My engine is complete now, to the best of my abilities. I’m awaiting my inspector’s kiss, that approval of the foibled-piston chants as sounds of purest bliss. I cannot see through anything of my blinding holes, so Inspector please, come rescue me; the world is yours if only you would stoke the coals.
I dream a dream “I wish my words would wrap around you like a blanket, always there to keep you warm amidst the eye of any storm.” I want to show you something amazing. I want to show you everything! Today is but today, and unless I get a chance to show you how my colors shine, I’m afraid my attraction will return this madman to his reprimanding mind. Please! Oh please. Don’t let me loose that spark of such insanity.
Hoping, yet trying never to forget. Knowing that should my hopes carry me up too high, they’ll pop, they’ll burst, and I will surely die. But please! Oh please. I’m good at falling, just let me teach you how. It’s the landing I’ve yet to get quite down. Stalling, stalling, crash. Falling, falling, splash! Reality’s wet actualities snap my senses back as with a flash. What are you thinking now, you goddamn fool? It’s too early to entangle her in lines of as fresh as poetry. Keep those fancy ribbons wound around your spool. But I will surely try as my puzzled self asks “Why?” Because this is but the music of my soul, the me not cramped between the corners and the clocks, the hopes and dreams that she will someday find all of what I long for her to gently and unwind.
Sincerely,
Mr. Eerie