Solitary refinement
Ever reach that point when the world gets too bold
All these bright lights and whirling noises
The constant parade of names and faces and histories and truths
What brand to buy
What music to enjoy
Where to work, what to read, what to drive
What banner of righteous glory to wave at the enemy real and perceived
Who should I spend my time with, fuck with, eat with, sleep with, live with, breed with, die with, remembered as being with
It gets to be a swarm of needles after too long
Into the neck, behind the eyes
Crawling up your spine like all that cheap acid you dropped that fateful fall when the world vibrated and you knew you could never go back
Back to the grind, back to the trenches
Back to the front of the popularity wars
Grinning and preening
Such a pretty parrot squawking at the doves
Wanting nothing more than your little nest up high above it all
All those needles draining you
The questions, the stares and glares
Unaware of the highway men and the art of their wares
Where are you now, Johnny Reb?
Hiding behind the woodpile when the war banged shut
The cheapest of screendoors letting all the flies through
To spread their maggots of discontent and ill will
Scraped clean to the marrow
Somedays that's how it feels
The hollow hum of Boxer war gongs and the sweet taste at the back of your throat after a hard and unexpected fall
Standing shaking my head trying to come up with something clear
And it only gets fuzzier and louder and deeper
The closer I get the further away I feel
An amazing man said that
He'll be dead in fifty years
What comfort can be reached when all the great works have been produced and the best music has been written
How much more chaos can we pack the pipe with before we're just wasting the product?
Terrifying realization when the postmodernists start to make sense
Cold comfort found in Nietzche and Rand
Machine logic that infects like meningitis and feeds like postwar scavengers
No longer a question of am I that much of a bastard
But how much of a bastard am I willing to be to survive?
So I sit and I drink and I smoke and I stroke and I cry and scream and shake my fists at the heavens and pound another nail into the floor with my forehead
Because I find grace and beauty wherever I look
And it makes my heart break that few people can see it
Let alone appreciate it
I have shunned the world and ignored my brethren for fear of anymore pain
And my sentence for my crimes against humanity?
Solitary refinement
Long hours spent shaving the bones
Picking all those needles from my psyche
Drawing out the poison of the world
Disconnecting from the hype and hoopla
Finding a warm embrace in a slow serenade in the key of B flat
How long can you go without talking to someone?
I don't mean the idle chatter of work
The howdoyados of the checkout line
Or one of many rounds of listening to people pound their chests chanting 'look at my scars
Look at my wealth
Look at my success
My happiness
My God
Me, mine, I, me, mine, I me mine I me mine I
My my my
There's a rapist lurking out there with your wife's name on his lips
A bullet with your name etched on the casing with loving precision only seen in Gregorian Biblical relics
Prime rib waiting to squeeze your heart to a pulp
A drug that wants your undivided attention as it walks you to the gutter
Something painfully extended and cancerous itching to saddle up next to your DNA and say howdoyadoo
What a mean mind's eye you do possess
Silence
I think the silence would kill you faster
All the chitter and chatter at the batters as they knock one out of the park
Too many people don't know when to shut the fuck up and focus on something bigger than the inner child
When was the last time you discussed something with someone that didn't involve gossip or television?
Are you brave enough to debate philosophy with a complete and total stranger?
I am, and I always come away feeling like a bully or an idiot
Could you have sex with someone without making a sound?
All that sweat and energy working overtime as you stare into their eyes and release'¦.
No music, no words, just lifeforce pushing and clawing to the rhythm of breath and copulation
That would be romance, true love, all the other repolished lies flashing by big brother's eighty seven channel glass pacifier
Eye contact, you fool
Best aphrodisiac known in history
Would you be brave enough, open enough to dig your head out of the pillows and flesh and ignite that spark?
Course not'¦ you have that perfect newsreel rolling in your head
#52 where you have that cover person screaming your name
Silence is your poison because you can't function without something bright and loud nipping at your heels
We're all junkies in the Silicone Gilded Age
You snort culture while I smoke truth
We'll see who lives longer
Every waking moment we roll the dice
And for some odd reason we think we have Lady Luck at our side
How foolish
Your life's work is a work of life, not that deathmachine at rest in the garage
We roll the dice and never stop to look at the sides
Knowing when we see that snake's eye we'll freeze and cry
And whine and scuttle off to the nearest church until our ego reinflates and we're back in the alley throwing bones off the stoop and laugh and drink and swear and win and lose and seduce and swindle and have that moment of split second clarity when the dice stare back on snake eyes frozen bambi on the 270 loop and you're gone
That's why I don't care about your life, your wife, your scars, that rotten little baltimore apple core whored out mentality you rub in my face like I'll eat your shitty little fruits
You could drop like a stone and I would finish my drink and move on to the next table
So I spend my solitary refinement trying to smooth out these mean little nuggets that rise to the surface when I see them smirk at how smart they are, how blessed they are, how they've earned what they've got an their children will become another band of despicable shits sprinting to build a condo and a portfolio and their own little Rambos to carry forward the mauve banners
I spend my days trying to sound the waters and compensate for that blinding moment of realization, end result of a thousand prayers bearing infinite nightmares
That I will never be like them
I will never accept them as my own
I cannot give enough to hate or love
I saw the dice, I met the bookie, I know the odds
I don't want to play these silly little games anymore but
I'm too proud and vain to quit
So much beauty and truth in the world that I wish someone would see that I'm not right or wrong
Just enjoying the view from my silent cell

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