To Hell with All That prelude, ‘on the road to Aokigahara’ The road with many exits, Lake Motosu maybe, or back to Fujiyoshida for the Mt Fuji toll road… Then the exits stop. Then there are warnings and signs begging in a couple different languages, Reconsider. Then there are no more signs. Once a year volunteers hunt for bodies The sun is down and still we’ve got no plans… Not much done when it was up But still seems like a lot to need to get away from. I’ll worry about it tomorrow, I’ve got another book another pill another smoke another drink another endless garbled sketchbook which no one should ever read. I’ll worry about it tomorrow. It will distract me from waking up each morning To myself again. Tomorrow. And Tomorrow. No wonder it feels like you don’t have anything: You don’t think you’re anything worth having. You always sound so serious about getting sober when you’re screwed. It’ll come true one of these days One way or another. Don’t know no one else When you don’t want to know yourself. Can we just share a little loneliness tonight? I don’t want to cure it, Just put it away For a tomorrow that’s about as real as Santa Clause. Can we share this empty space that god put in all our souls, That you and I don’t know what to do with? Can we dance together past the gates of Hell, To that Sea of howling, bloody Trees, The place blind fools as we were born to fill. Dance with every loveless soul; We have run out of tomorrows. Dance before I can figure how to end this poem, End it proper, End it right and real. No idea, really. Hell with it. Can we go? I’ll finish it tomorrow.
Posted on: Wed, 10 Jul 2013 04:08:52 +0000