I know there is a time in life
which can never be relived again,
and the mind is right
and all else is on-point, or perfect,
like the way we used to be,
remember?
There was a time when we were ale to
snap back into place.
We were fine to be resilient, or defiant
and young enough to grab lightning
and not be shocked.
We were free enough
to avoid consequence
or deny that the hands of time
would ever catch us
or keep us from feeling young.
I swore to God
that I would never grow old
and that I would die first
but oh,
if my younger self
could only see me now
I’d probably ask
. . . What the fuck happened top you?
What happened to the rest of our world?
Where is everybody?
What the hell is Fentanyl ?
And who the fuck told you
it was okay to get old
or become a civilian?
I remember my battle fatigues
all too well.
I remember my beliefs
and how the lies misled us
to see them as true
I remember the belief
that you or I
could never be anything more
than you or I.
But time happened,
and yes
we learned about the lies;
only we realized the n too late
to change the dates of our dream,
which remained untouched and yet,
deferred.
Again,
I ache
I bleed.
I beg
and I hope.
I think back to the words
that came from Saul Williams
when he accused “Stealing us
was the smartest thing they ever did!
Too bad they don’t teach the truth
to their kids.”
And yes. I have been stolen.
I have bee stolen
like the rest of us have been taken
from truth
and steered into a direction of ongoing lies.
I have been
swallowed and spit
and sunk down.
I have lost my life to the whirlpools
of an almighty suction,
and spiraled down the drain
dying alive, one lie at a time.
Sometimes, I swear
I look back
and to clear,
I know that I was warned.
I was told by others
but no.
I didn’t listen.
In fact, I took the pain
but I never saw it coming—hence the red flags
that I noticed afterwards
or the warning sings
that refused to see
and the warnings
that my elders warned me me about
were true.
Those who told me told me well
because they were right when they said
you’ll understand when you’re older.
And now, I am older
I understand that youth is filled
with a stream of misconceptions
poor calculations, mistakes
misgivings, and misguided messages
that made me cry,
like the last time
I saw the casket lowered—
and I?
(Exhale the pain)
I just sat alone
and wondered.
Please, I beg you.
forgive me or my intensity
and please,
pardon my intention
because if I am intended to be here
and if I am intended to be with you-
Then you and I are meant to be
and arguing about our existence
is about as valuable
as arguing about the sun
when the moon is out.
If you and I are meant to be
the you and I will always be
Or –
so I hope.
I know there was a time
when the lights were bright
and the stage was set perfectly
And me?
I still regard my past
as if it were yesterday, and yes,
my past was yesterday.
At least, I think so
to some degree.
Some days were longer before
and some were far before,
as in decades ago
and some of those days are too far gone now
or too far back to recall.
Either way,
my question about yesterday
or the days before is this
Did they really happen?
Or has our memory tricked us again?
I know all about the days before
my wrinkles took place.
I know about the resiliency
and the leniency of youth.
I know what happened
when I was young enough to heal
or stand back up
and “give it another go,”
or so we used to say . . .
I admit
I am dying for a fix
which is not to say
that I am dying for another addiction
or some kind of mainline drug.
I am not looking to euthanize the mind
or wipe away the memory
and pardon my sin.
Yet still . . .
I need a fix
or some kind of high
that exists away from the battles of self-destruction
which, if you ask me
this is the same as killing myself
one brain cell at a time.
And last i checked,
that’s the last thing
that I want to do.
No.
This is not my kind of thing anymore.
Therefore, if age is a mindset
and youth is wasted on the young
then let me rejoice
and enjoy the simple things.
let me regain myself
or find my composure by doing something
like, lying in the sun
or listening to the rainfall
and playing some old music
that brings me back
to where I want to be.
I remember when we were young
and time was endless.
We were young enough
to be relentless and old enough
to understand that summers were short
but winter nights have the ability
to be long and hot
I remember what it meant
to be wild
or to live
or be on the hunt for some
repentless journey, alive and well,
wild as the crazy madman
freed from his own prison
and vacating the invisible bars,
which held me inside.
I remember what it felt like
to be hopelessly hopeful,
and hoping to god
or when I’d pray
to the God as I understand him;
I’d pray and hope that yes, life is out there
somewhere . . .
just waiting for me.
I want to be young
and unforgivable
free, disconnected
and discharged from the so-called rule
that tells me
you can only be young once.
“Stealing us
was the smarted thing
they ever did.”
I agree.
You and I
have been stolen by lies
and been misled
by our own misperceptions.
But no
Not anymore.
I don’t want to live a lie anymore.
I know who I was
and I know what I have done.
The time to stand up
and be counted
is now.
I told you.
I knew it all along.
I knew there was love out there for me.
Alone or not –
ready?
Good because
here I come.
Alive and as unready as I’ll
ever be.
I promise.
The Written Addiction 