A Pecker Would
A loss is a loss, no less
Oh boy, not for the faint of heart, lose consciousness and hit your taint on the floor, just a space between to be joked and poked but that’s not all. What a man, what a man, hope he’s mighty good, or at least mostly, right? Might measures him in inches. Nobody’s perfect, but what a specimen. Embodiment of a strong thing with blood and vain but it’s soft and scared too. It wonders and fears but not out loud.
Gotta hold that stuff in with that strength you’ve been lifting for, lifting to get, lifting your self. Elevate and be above, like a dove like a dove, but even doves fly into windows of other worlds. Trying to get in but the cost is something you’ll see later, much later, later when you’re a man.
Oh boy.
Ride that bike, hit the jump, run run run because energy is your cause, life is for feeling but the physical kind, ya know, only the physical kind. Be kind or just leave it alone, it’s hard to resist the infectious laughter that comes with the club. Entrance earned. Gatekeepers for gatecreepers. Stalkers, posers, or just confusion, lost wanderer who wants nothing more than to find the sword in the stone and pull it out.
Pull out, kid! It’s your life on the line, pull out or it’s over and you’re over her and she’s over you and life rolls over you. Smash you down so you can look up and believe it’s his fault, all his fault. I was just following orders, I was being what I was made into, just following the order.
Not easy, just jerk the sleeves off and cast’em aside. Messy messy and he never liked to clean up. Responsible but within reason, dude knows how to live it up and get lost. Get lost, my man, because then you’ve got a purpose. Get lost because reason ain’t reason enough to make sense of all this, just isn’t, and neither are you.
Enough is enough, not one bit more. What a chore. Such a chore. And what about that one whore, nah, don’t do that, that’s for those that trap themselves in that. She is she. Just be he. Where does that go? Up in the nosebleeds, looking for the he row. Oh, well, that’s a place to reach, or is it thrust?
Reach for me. Reach, friend, reach, it’s not all bad, it’s not always bad, it gets better, you’ll get better, and if not then we reach for something else. Understanding? Clearly, missing. Oh how I miss understanding what needs to be done, what I need to do, how to do it.
Get a sense sense sense. Now is senseless, a missing sense, nonsense. Feel the challenge and struggle but talk speak talk speak to whoever needs to hear. Listen listen they’re here. You’re in, kid, you’re in. Take the warm up gear off, this is the game. They’re ready to tear you apart, you ready? You gotta score, or are you a pussy? Get it, get in, straight to her heart and rip it out, ruthless. Oh the aggression is something to talk about. Yeah! She’ll cry for me, long for me, yeah, want me, no, she’ll get over it, faster faster. Over me. Forget it. He was, she was. We once were and now we’re not. We try but we’re not what we once were, and she’s moving on but I’m still right here, wishing I had listened, wishing I had been me, I’m still here.
Snap out of it.
Oh man, what is that? Test these, drop’em. Grow up, get hard. Even in sadness. Strength is the only sadness, a cold stone it sits and chips and chips and chips away. Drop and drop and another day. Years and years and the faceless fake wonders where he’s gone. Back to the ground, return. Refund, get a new one. She’s not good enough, not whatever enough, new one! Play on. Play on. But the boys left hours ago and now there’s no one else here, just if only if only.
Treat her well that reflection. Isn’t it? It’s you. I’m strong, fast, unstoppable. Oh you’ll stop, yes you will, and it’ll break parts of you. Old news, buddy, but you haven’t read the paper in years. Years ahead, right? You think, you think, the best is something you get, catch it and keep it, quick hands pocket the prize. No, not at all, it’s the honest truth. Honestly, you don’t see it until you’re there but first you gotta waste that youth, pour it all over the ground and watch it spill into the sewer.
Goodbye. Goodbye. For real. Those goodbyes are real and no one is strong enough to fight that off, no one is fast enough to outrun it, nor cunning enough to avoid it, but you’ve got the one thing that can face it. You have what you need to triumph over the mistakes and missed takes that plague you.
A rage that builds on all that lore, a rage that could be something more.
A rage that could be something more.
Teach them, educate, be a shiny example of a model whose role is serious and strenuous and stresses the severity of sin. Prideful pride filled but not proud of what he had to do to get here. What other choice was there? What other choice did you offer?
Boys will be boys.
What does that mean? Are you just being mean? A bully in practice but a preacher of pity. A pitiless creature. Do you know what I mean? Do you know that you’re mean? Or is it lost in the cost, the cost of the lust. You’ve never been one to trust a lust. Passion is young and easy to choke out with experience, snuff the rooster, right? Bury him before morning and we’ll just wonder why he stopped calling, did he lose his voice? Nah, the coyotes probably got him.
Ate him fears first then called him a coward. Left him for dead. Worthless pile of meat, no substance anyway. What a waste, what a shame. He’ll live on in our hearts. Our heart of hearts. The deepest recesses that push the chance to swing away but he needs to jump, to pounce, to tackle his will and take it down. Too bad we didn’t know, huh? Too bad we didn’t see clearly what he needed from me?
Too bad he didn’t say anything. Too bad he didn’t reach out. Too bad his thoughts harmed him so. Too bad, boy, too bad. Man, what a joke. It’s a scam, it’s a sham, the dam only gives way if the levy breaks. When do these arguments begin to hold water? Is the reservoir of reserves drying up? Unplanned is unplanned for after all.
Ah shit, another mistake like a stake to the sternum, finally that cage does more than harbor a hateful heart. Be useful, make something of yourself, don’t be a bitch. Pick yourself up, pick yourself up, pick yourself up. What do you want to be when you grow up, dirt? Get up. The grass is always greener and the dust settles and still no answer. Gimme something, provide something or go cry to your momma. She’ll feel something for you and then you don’t have to.
Can’t be a baby for ever. Time runs short and women like’em tall. And that isn’t all. We’ve got a list for you, buddy boy. We’ve got it put together what you need to be. What you need to believe. What you need to see and how you need to be seen. Stay lean, stay lean, that fleshy underbelly can be torn open. They’ll see your pain, keep it together, stay sane, this will wax and wane, it’ll wax and wane.
Most importantly, stay in your lane, eyes on your own paper, know what I’m saying? Watch it, boy, get too cool and the frost bites your lip. Even your hot breath won’t help you now. Don’t forget, you won’t be able to help yourself. Know what I mean? You can’t help yourself. Total takeover but you’re responsible for it, yes you are, it’s only you or else. Or else the cell, and in you go. In the cell. Wait and rot because you could never help yourself, you never had the chance to help yourself, and we stood there and watched and waited until we could reflect and look back into your innocent eyes and wonder where and why it all went wrong.
I want to be helpful, I want to help, I want you to know and I need you to realize that it makes me feel so helpless, hoping that the worst holds off and you can keep holding out, hanging in, holding on. What a curse to feel alone while we whisper sweet nothings about our day in one ear and out the other, but something changes. The arrangement is different, it’s said with difference, and in difference could be where the problem burrows. Maybe in deference, missing the greater of greaters. Nah, that’s too deep, the pressure’s too much so your ears pop and build and pop and build. Edging closer.
Is this helping? Am I being helpful?
I wish I could understand what you can’t want me to understand because I really don’t understand you, understand me? Ugh, come on, give me something, help me help you! Share some suffering with me because no one likes a selfish silent suffering in silence. No one.
You’re never alone, that’s the problem. Always there with yourself even when you wanna get away, where the sandy beaches are littered with shipwrecks and washed up bodies, but a beach is a beach nonetheless, right? Take a walk in the setting sun and ignore the massacre. Your footprints will be washed away soon anyway, just look behind you, look back. It’s all gone, it’s already gone.
Then too late gets stuck with later alligator and the crocodile tears help the waters stay murky. Who the hell can see through that? It’s unclear, it’s unclear, but let’s try and filter through. Try to try because I want to help. Try to help because I want to try. Try it, try it, is it pure yet? Is it as pure as I intend it to be?
Nah… wait.
Help-filled moments mostly lack intent, don’t they? Truly. Honestly.
Helpless and hopeless are part of helping, parts of the worst part. The answerless portion, the waiting room to enter a void. Don’t miss the call though, the check ins are random and if you’re not there then they’ve missed you and you’ve missed your chance. A grave detail and the vital signs feel like obvious secrets. Don’t miss it, don’t miss it, because hopeless and helpless can never compare to flatline and all we have are the peaks and valleys, the rhythmic spikes, the electrical currents.
What is there to do when I’d like to help you?
You already know.
You already knew.
Answers, solutions? I don’t have those and I’m unsure how to lie about it. Suggestions and recommendations, maybe, maybe some of those because I have a way of being but it may not solve much.
What I am sure I have is a little understanding: every body can have a hard time.
I’m one of those posi people you look at and my presence either infects you with joy or it inspires a desire to spit in my face. I have hard times as well. Sometimes a decision I make spits in my face. Sometimes something I thought was only going to burn once continues to come back to burn the scar and make it harder, tougher. Some mistakes are for the rest of your life and laughing those off just keeps getting harder.
I have so many memories to look back on and laugh, but when I try to look ahead I see silence. I can’t see the way because I used to thrive in unsureness but now it’s just sludge slowing me down and the dogs can smell my fear. I can feel them getting near.
Life does what it has to do. It offers you something and asks Can you handle this? Then offers the next and the next and the next. The chamber is always full.
So take your shots because you’re in its crosshairs, more is on its way and there’s no way to get ready so prepare to be caught off guard. That’s the only solution I’ve come up with.
But I get new ideas when I chat with others.
Maybe talking to a starving artist who took advice from the writers he read will help demystify something for you. Maybe you’ll think I’m a damn fool and that’ll make you feel better.
Either way, I’d love to help.