A Feast for No Guests ( Freewrite )

There is no point in being pointless but there is plenty of reason
in being senseless Pull the image from the sky and tell the truth
as often as you life The truth can enslave you as much as it can
set you free I never promised to be faithful Did you childhood
disappear faster than you can remember What ever happened
to all of your infantile memories and dreams Is there a way we
can reclaim these parts of ourselves that have been lost I start
laughing when I remember how foolish we were in our youth
and the false sense of immortality and invincibility that filled us
then Only the passing of years has made us aware of the frail
nature of our lives Forget how to love No that is a thing that
is impossible Loving is innate to all of us I sat down and sat
and sat and thought and sat some more and thought about
putting a pen in my hand but even that was too much for me
to bear So I sat and sat and sat and thought until my head was
so filled with thoughts that they began to spill uncontrollably
from my hands so fast that words would often disappear or
thoughts would come out half formed from the deluge You
are sleeping when I wake and we live so separately though
we are tied by the invisible thread that binds us in secret knots
Hiding in a small museum in Culver City I cease to be the
adult I have become and feel the curiosity and wonder of my
childhood reemerge I am humbled at the ability of this to
happen to me I was listening to you sing and I lost myself in
your voice I dreamt your songs I woke up to your sounds
and now I am filled with the sounds and words that can heal
the broken and invisible parts of myself Memory becomes a
thing that randomly accesses itself Sitting in my car on a
darkened residential street Loving you and feeling so apart
from the world and the lives we had created for ourselves
Eventually we had to open the door and get out and put on
the costumes of the lives we had made I see your smile in
pictures and know the unhappiness that lurks beneathe Yet
I know there are many genuine looks of joy within I am not
afraid of death but I would be telling you a lie No one has a
life they would willingly give up but we must all be torn from
this home someday and when that day comes we must decide
on our own peace I drank lemonade and thought it too tart so
I poured in a spoonful of sugar and it was fine Night comes
and shows us what it is to have been one of our ancestors
and be filled with fear Pick up the warm roll and spread the
butter over it with a knife Comfort in such a pure and simple
way Is this not what we are all seeking in various measures