joke about the eyes you can feel but can't see
delirious from the feeling of feeling complete.
I’m writing history with this guitar –
something tells me we went too far
but that’s always been the case.
I wanted to write something inspired here, but I’m finding it hard to feel inspirational.
I love running with scissors, even though in the back of my mind I can see the warning lights flashing.
the smallest risks are the most exhilarating.
getting frozen hearts beating.
stop, rewind then reply –
I think I watched a show like this on tv.
lovers past heroin addictions: being hooked on failure is all the rage nowadays.
I recorded the aftermath to watch it back and force a laugh
to prove to myself this never mattered.
drunk on the contrast,
on hearts and scars that just won’t last.
children in third world countries starve and cry and fall down to die.
politicians tell us this is bad.
we don’t need to be told when and how to feel compassion.
but then again, how can we journey into countries so far away, in both distance and decade, and tell them how to play the game of life and loss
when we still have so many hearts beating on our own streets after hours, that don’t belong there?
when we have people living in poverty on our own doorsteps?
when our own children are crying out in our mother tongue, that we just don’t hear?
telling other countries what they’re doing wrong, when we have people in similar positions on our own streets, is little more than hypocritical.
that’s my two cents – now go buy something for your ego’s with them.
