danny

they were outside, in the sun, waiting.

i did not feel like going outside. it has been enough but it had to end. i knew what was expecting me, and i knew i deserve it. i also knew they were my friends, after all. i knew i had to go out.

i took a deep breath, and stepped out the door…

it has been long. a calendar week but a long road. it seems lately time goes slower. so slow i can even look behind and find myself at how i was an hour ago, as different and the same.

i started guessing it all was about being more sincere with myself. about accepting and assuming myself. until now it seems it still makes sense. very much.

i don’t feel less lonely, i just feel my loneliness is not alone.

i just finished factotum by charles bukowski. i, more and more, feel like him. not that i find myself in the same situation, far from it. not that i want to be like chinaski, can’t deny it has occurred to me. it is just feeling down and out. feeling lonely and longing for someone to fill up the moments with conversation and whatnot. mostly, longing for comprehension. not more than someone that understands me. and that seems the most difficult thing.

then i think it must be difficult. for one main reason: one that understands other might as well be seeking for understanding. it is a give and get business. it is a you-scratch-me-i’ll-scratch-you thing. and most of the people i know they just can’t. mostly because of the investment. letting others understanding you means being vulnerable, being exposed; being naked. and they’re so scared of it. and i’m too, just perhaps not that much.

i’ve drank three beers and just finished a 200-page book in little less than two days. it helps. i feel in good company, fuck, in company. i have read words that say what i think, only in a different way, but the content equals. i’ve been drinking two, three beers a day, and reading heavily.

i go to work and i do my stuff, sometimes bored, sometimes eager. the work i’ve been given is not too difficult, though sometimes complex. but boring, cause i get to work alone. and then i feel alone. i’d prefer to work with others and listen to their complaints and to their ideas. sometimes their ideas can really be interesting. i feel i’m surrounded by very smart, very boring people. let’s see how it ends up.

going back home sometimes it’s tinted with a gloomy feeling of emptiness. that upsets me greately. these are not moments of emptiness, right the opposite: this should be a moment of greatness, of fullfillment. it strikes me. perhaps work is not it all, as i once thought. perhaps there’s an open crack, a moment, a space, for something else. for myself. for my way of seeing life. whatever that is.

i guess i still have to discover that. one step at a time. heavy steps in a world full of bad weather and lonely people. i better breathe deeply and grab another beer, and hope for tomorrow.

I came here an empty boy
I came to find the strait home
Words were of no weight anymore
So I spent as many as I could
Until the sun set, and the moon came out

And then I saw myself in a sea of trouble
Trying to float atop
The lies they were taking me down
And I struggled, not too much
My body was a thousand tonnes
My thoughts were adrifting, gone
The words and the lies were it all

I decided to stay astream
It was not my call anymore
The silhouettes around me, calling
My days were dealt from a marked deck
Solitaire and no aces to scream

My truth was on the table
Played like a thousand lost days
I came undone on the side
I tried to pull it up
And it sank more

The lie grew on my forefront
It took my friend, it took my brother
It melt with laughts and alcohol
I passed away, I was fore gone

Waking up on a rotten pile
Arms aside, pulling up
The rings of truth stand upon
I grabbed my lies and tear them aside

I’m still inside the loop
I deal with it, It holds within
But now my face is clean again
My feet can touch the soil I step
I’ve been reborn, but I’m the same

I called see, it was a draw
The cards were almost to withdraw
My time has started, mine aside
More the man has to be drawn
Again

And in the steps I realise
I’ll walk calmly, I won’t withdraw
For it has been a time for lose
And now’s a time to clean the flaws

I’m the longing for a way
I’m the eager for a trait
Care the step will have to be
Time is still, I am the hare
Again

I found myself in front of the computer. Not that I’ve been too long away, I thought. It was the sensation of being here for a while, thought I know I just found myself here two minutes ago.

Then I started remembering. I was reading a book right beside here, in my bed. I was reading and I thought i wanted something to eat. I went to the kitchen and open the fridge. It was full of things, not my things. I grabbed the raw bacon and took it out and went back to the room.

Then I remember thinking about my job. Thinking how bored I was, though while at work I felt ok. I liked my job, I thought. Not anymore, I thought. But why? I was really into it before arriving home. It is friday so why being so attached to a job I’ve been doing for a week already? Isn’t the weekend about wanting to be off your work?

And here I was, justifying myself. Or the job, whatever. I was at bed, with the book, and some tomatoes beside me. I was eating the tomatoes, small tiny cherry tomatoes. They were supposed to be from Italy, but they tasted english enough.

I lit a cigarette, and had a pull, it was the same Camel light I’ve had for ages, after being back home. Then I see the two beers down the bed. That explained the thinking, the cigarette and the raw bacon. It also explained the strong smell of beer and the heavy smoking.

(country music rythm, fast but steady, kinda dolly parton’s creepin’ in)

the thrill of having you so close seems gone,
and i can’t seem to find it anymore,
i know it seems too wear a thing to say
but you seem like you’re a thousand miles away
so i say
let it roll

the days when i found you in my door are gone
and i know i would never go back home
if you were on my side you’d finally see
but mischief have made you away from me
so i say
let it roll

you are a ghost, i am a blind.

it took me some time. i am not that wise, but i think i got it.

you are a ghost. you appear and you’re there, essence and verb, mind and being. you say little but what you say is true. is nice. but what do you say? i listen, with all energy, with all soul and bone. and i cannot see but what’s on my mind. what can i see?

i am a blind. my story with you is that of a dream. i dreamt about you. intensely and vividly. i saw you being what i needed, what i wanted. i started to need you. and then that dream then disappeared. you were my oasis, and then i discovered it was a mirage. my mirage. you were never there, it was all a dream i had, a dream of you. of that you i wanted to dream of. the one i could see without seeing.

you are a ghost, i am a blind.

i feel it, i can really feel it. sense it. i can’t predict it, but it is sitting there, still and silent. it is like a hangover. it is slim and tiny, almost floating, but it weights like a 16-wheeler. it tenderly crushes my chest. sits on top of it.

it is made of all imperfections and all shredded moments, all mistakes and all strikes of bad luck. and it is there, sitting inside of me. waiting. forever it seems now.

it is with me when i go to bed, and there when i wake up. it has been with me the whole day, from the moment i opened my eyes to the morning sun to this very moment, when i read trying to escape from it. no escape, it’s there in the book, in the pages and in half of the words, sometimes even i the little silences between the words, the white spaces. it is in the music, sulking music that feeds it and makes it bigger.

i can lamost touch it. it is there. it is just fucking there.

it is in the phone, the phone i stare at for hours, once every 10-15 minutes. the phone i open looking for someone that’s not there. it is in the ugly colors and pictures of the stupid phone face. it’s in the opening and closing and opening and closing. it is in the void of that message that i know won’t arrive, that does not have the right to arrive. that one i don’t deserve after all. it is inside that one number, and inside other numbers. it is there in the fridge, among the food and the beers, among the salad and the parmigiano. it is in the coffe i cannot prepare, and in the tea i don’t make anymore.

it is in the surface of the table i should clean, and over the dishes, both the dirty and the clean. it is in the posters i have leisurely taped on the walls, and even has taken grab of the bike. it is in the air in the tyres, in the saddle, in the handles where i put my weight and try to steer. it is in the clothes, in my belt and in my socks.

it is everywhere, it is all tainted of it. but mostly very inside of me. it is part of me. it is in my self-inflicted loneliness. it is in the tears that don’t exists. it is in the hands that rest aside with no power to touch anymore. it is in the weakness and in the fear. it is in the words i cannot say anymore. it is in the broken moment and in the lost moment and in the loss itself. it is mostly in the rudeness and the lack of memory and the excess of alcohol and the cowardness and the slammed door.

it’ll stay there, restless and bitter. it won’t come out. it wants to eat me in, inside out. it wants to tear me into hundred pieces, rip me out, shred me. and i want it too, just right now.

she came back, her hands in her pockets, her head facing the floor. slowly entered the room, without even looking she sat in the border of the bed. she seemed tired, so tired she wanted to lay on that bed for hours. i couldn’t see her face, but her body said she was tired enough.

i tried to talk, but couldn’t find anything decent to say. my chest ached with a pressure, my arms were so heavy, my soul seemed exhausted, depleted. i could feel her pain, i could feel it cause i was that pain.

she turned and looked at me. and then i was paralised. she looked at me with all her beautiful eyes, those eyes i loved for nights and nights, for hours and hours, those eyes that once and briefly might have belonged to me. those eyes with the strength and the power to make me feel a million feelings. but this time they had just one: sadness. a very profound sadness, a sincere and tangible sadness. a dense and delicate sadness. it was the sadness of all the time, of all the facts, of life turning a page and letting us go, of losing again. it started to enter my body, i could feel it oozing from her precious green eyes, into the empty shell my body was.

it started expanding, filling every pore, every vein and artery, every arm and leg, all lungs, stomach. every space and every cell and every molecule. and it was expanding and growing, and slowly killing me. i started feeling sick, i shake and quivered, i vomited, i cried. it was me, i was the sadness.

i don’t remember well how it was. i just exhale and fell down like a feather. then i was here, watching her. watching her every move. taking care of her. again. only that this time she’s alone, and i’m dead.

my fear and my angel are one and the same. i might have lost them both, i might have gain them both. my fear and my angel are one and the same.

i walked around my life and my fear softly grabbed my hand. took me for a trip, showing me how rotten, how low, how boring it all was. my fear took me deep into myself and show me all the dark and muddy i have in. my fear took me around my friends and told me they did not care. took me around my family and told me they did not love me anymore. took me around my work and showed me all my errors, all my failures. took me to my loved one and showed me how far she already was, walking farther and farther, giving her back to me. and then i started trembling.

then my angel came and got close to me. kiss me in the forehead. sat with me. laid me down. my angel embraced me softly. and then we both cried silently, form the bottom of our hearts. a cry so silent it felt like a slow cold breath let out, calmly and painfully out.

he’s still here with me, crying. there in the bottomless darknes of my self. he has the face of my fear. he must be my fear. but he cries with me, silently.

i would be lost without him.