the key to the fancy of one lunatic (with whisperings by amelia)

the key to the fancy of one lunatic (with whisperings by amelia)

lately i have been feeling like i should be wary of the things the future will bring now that i am alone.  i question the motives that some time ago were iron-plated.  i don't want to say i regret having made the choice i made but i have to admit that now, after the dust has settled, i carry a loneliness that is already eating away at my foundation.  vice has clouded my vision.  i have lost much more than i can even account for, in the truncated memory i possess of the last couple of years.  i hate you for putting me in harms way, and letting me slip away into the darkness that now envelops my judgement.  i feel as naked and as helpless as i can recall ever to have felt, and there isn't the comfort of a summer with aunt libelia in miami, or uncle jimmy at the hamptons, or even visiting grandma in puerto rico.  i am alone, in this predicament of violent change, without the antidote of a warm home at arms reach.  i now bide my time and live vicariously through the family lives of my friends the joy of a nephew, a new house, a birthday of a loved one.  i have become like the vampires i have so adored in literature, feeding off the life energy of others in order to cope with my own shallow and detached existence.

"...your heart is not a bowl of holy water for everyone to dab their finger into it..."

with the electronic cadences of songs that express loss i sit down and rethink all that has gone wrong in my life.  all the decisions that i have made and the results i have registered.  the evidence of a looming incorrigible mistake threatens any peace i can conjure in my moments of deep questioning about it all.  i send out into the void the most extreme of distress signals, asking of it a sign that will clue me in to a frequency of thought that will grant me tranquility.

"...your only problem is that you never learned when to shut up..."

you phase into vision and wreak havoc with your fragmented ideals, tampering with my mental equilibrium.  the same that is so irreparably sensitive due to years of emotional dampening and holding back so much anger.  you detonate in my mind a chain reaction that is lethal to my cosmovision, you collapse the pilars of my thoughts as you gracefully stride around them.  and you reached a place where you now enjoy to see those structures turn to sand. 

"...you don't need what you don't need..."

i miss you so much that just imagining you, lying down in your eternal posture of rest, fills my heart with lead.  i thought i could easily get over losing you because i had lost mother already, and i thought that after losing mom nothing could be worse.  how ignorant can people be sometimes, to think one can predict the emotional outcome of certain circumstances, to think one has a chance to negotiate terms with finality... i miss you so much that the veins in my heart sting every time it beats and i'm thinking of you...

"...killing time is a lot like killing life..."

die in my dreams, because if you were to die in waking life i would never be able to recover.  that would mean that all the true legacy would be finished and that alone would break me with its weight.  it would leave me like a corpse inside a car that hit a wall of concrete going ninety... having you home safe will pour a fleece sweater over my head and serve me cocoa with marshmallows floating on the surface.

"...with jesus, joseph and mary i lay down to rest tonight..."

tap water tap dancer.

tap dancing on top of a rock at the bottom of a pond, lilly pads and sunlight seeping down the murky atmosphere around the performer. that is how i first saw you, my youthful contender, as a spectacle to be seen. with the virtue of an etheric visage who carried out a deed for the fish and the kelp-like flora of that proverbial pond.

"i couldn't love you more because the was no more of you to love..."

the koi swam with a grace that seemed like slow-motion, casting their sculpture-like shadow down below. with the sway of plant life your feet contrasted, for their speed was unnatural in this place, as was the vigorous displacement of bubbles they created.

my fred astaire of english garden ponds was wearing a most becoming penguin tuxedo and his hair was fettered around his head in a liquidic manner. his ivory smile dazzled the water sprites, who lit the stage while they were enthralled by his choreography in transfigured time. bathing him with their light, he glowed and was seen from tens of feet around. from all around all sorts of living things crawled, swam, cavorted or simply spilled across the pond floor to catch a glimpse, to see this most strange manifestation...

i remained knelt over the bridge that ran over the pond staring down into the light, where the little man danced, cheering everything in his surroundings and making everything smile with its aura.