Eyes melted shut.
Have you heard the sound or felt the burn of a cigarette being extinguished on your skin?
Have you ever compared pain to pain?
Emotional vs physical.
No winner ever declared though that is what makes it beautiful, and ugly.
We praise beauty on the outside and ugly on the inside.
Sharing the left over love for ugly on the outside and beauty on the inside.
That is why sad songs journey through my heart and out my brain.
They are simply experiencing the emptiness that remains in such a full world.
A full world full of fools.
The emotional killed the physical as we continue to perish to a point of no return.
It can heal with time, though just like burns that turn to scars on your skin, emotional scars never fully leave.
That is the point of this poem.
To remind you of the burn, that sang for a scar, in order to appreciate the rain.
That laughing and crying spare no difference, and I love that we are all fucked up.
For indeed, in some way, we are all fucked up.
Though fear not the unknown, for that is everything, and nothing.
A beauty all can access to make emptiness feel at home.
A home that can keep your heart safe and show you love in the darkest of times

I would save you.
I would love you enough to make all of the pain that everybody else has caused you to go away.
I would love you enough, more than enough.
I would be happy.
We would be happy.

I would love you with a strong and fierce passion.
I would make you feel worth the breath that you breathe.
I would make you feel the worth of every beat of your heart.

I would take you into my heart and show you that there is room for you.
There will always be room for you.

I would show you your value, your worth.
I would show you who you could really be, who you are meant to be.
I would show you that they are all wrong about you, I see who you really are.
I would be by your side, I would defend you.

You are perfect.
You are the most beautiful soul and my perfect fit.
You are the swell in my chest and the rush in my brain.
You are the warm arms and beating heart.
You are the comfort and the joy.
You are the warmth of the sand and the cool of the ocean.  
You are perfect.

You are misunderstood.
You deserve the very best.
You deserve to be loved the way that I love you.

If love could just make time turn back.
If love could just make this perfect.
If I could be another person to love you, somebody not quite so close.
If we could steal each other and never look back.
If love were enough
I would love you enough, more than enough.
You are perfect.

Since that day of tear wretched relief
fueled by simple words of release
My mind has been in a fog of self pity.
Pity flamed by the media and doubts hovering so near
That finally broke the surface of my outward self confidence.
Could I be loved again?
Did I deserve love again?
Do I want love again?

Who could love someone else's trash?
Who would want this used and abused body and mind?
Who?
Who?
Who?

The days and weeks and months flew and dragged
In ceaseless toil and endless motion
Despite my frequent protests
My frequent denials
My frequent mournings.

When do these burning doubts extinguish?
When will my mind stop this downward spiral through the rabbit hole?
When will the me I use to know be exhumed?
When?
When?
When?

"Thank you for saying Happy Birthday to Shimone"
my mother said and I kind of said oh, no problem
and we went on from there to argue since that is what
we do and she will never know who I am
and I assume she meant Happy Birthday on Facebook because I
certainly don't keep track of her friend's birthdays,
especially not her friends who live in Haifa and remind
me of my X

Upset, I ran off to the pool, hoping for endorphins
after some laps  I rested at one end
and realized in a kind of slow, creeping way,
kind of like fog rolling in over the cliffs at Muir beach,
Not menacing, even beautiful, but a little cold, that
I never wrote anything to Shimone, not even on Facebook
No, I've been too self absorbed to write to my parents Israeli friends who used to
have me and my X over for Shabbat meals where I used to insist
on walking up the stairs since the elevator was small and hot and scared me
but he always wanted to ride in it
and one day we went over there was a sign on the apartments next door
that a woman had died in a terrorist attack the other day--
When a suicide bomber, afraid of the security guards at the nearby
mall, ran into an Arab restaurant conveniently located at a gas station
where all the best restaurants are,
and blew himself and everyone inside up
CNN international came for a day to report and then left the next
like a rude house guest who comes for your best food
and then dissapears, never to be heard from again

With my X, my mother always got cards she loved because he
knew just how to pick them and he'd send them without even telling me
sometimes faking my signature or
I just had to sign and he'd do the rest, in between crank calls to them at all hours,
taking advantage of the time zone.  At once tormenting and caring for them
as he did for me

And now is he a ghost in my account?  
A ghost, a fog, a memory, something ephemeral, not real

All the years, where have they gone?
All the days where we drove around endlessly in my car.
And our favorite song played on the radio.
And I turned it up because you always wanted it louder.
All the days we were always good friends.
I thought it was that way, the whole time.
I loved the world, and you even more.
All the years, all the hours.
All the days and seconds.

The onset was a subtle thing;
a clumsiness, a loss of grace.
She who had been strong and proud
was, suddenly, listless, out of place.
A weakness in a muscle here.
A spasm in a tendon there.
The prognosis, like a hammer strike
to the unsuspecting steer.

First came the cane,
Then came the chair.
Long before them
Came the fear.
The loss of strength
And motor skill
Lou Gehrig’s illness
left just her will.
Yet with that will she loved her man
Wrote a book with just one hand
Saw as much of the world she wished,
left them wanting one last kiss.
Then, when breathing became a chore,
She didn’t do it anymore.
To be surprised by death, she felt
Was the best way to manage
The hand she was dealt.

I am smoker, thats what I am.
And it makes me feel good.

When I sit at a bench,
and watch people pass,
With smiles on their faces or scowls as well,
And I love to share a square with someone unknown,
As mine and their story pours out while we both take a drag,
To me that is living and having a good time.

I am a smoker, thats my addiction,
Others hate it, but to me that is love.

Infatuated with nature and its conflictions,
I'll rise really early to watch the sunrise,
The pretty pink colors juxsaposed with purple,
Birds, planes and cars all rushing: rushing somewhere,
Or nowhere at all, I just sit there and wonder,
With tendrils of smoke soaking my clothes,
I do not care to rush, I am a smoker.
Watching in silence trying to witness,
Something worthwhile and great,
While others are worried about being late.

I am smoker, that is my passion,
It might be wrong but it feels so right.

When I go somewhere beautful,
new, old, familiar or strange,
I light up a stick, and blow smoke at the sky,
Blow smoke at those faces, sharing the sight with me.
I will buy a new album and share it with a cigarrette,
While the headphones blast and soothe,
My hand comes to my mouth,
And feeds it its poisons or nutrition.
Call it malicious, but my tenure on this earth,
Wont be so much longer than it is expected.

I am a smoker, that is my sin,
I try to kick it, but it comes back.

Once I did not smoke for six months,
And i felt okay, as I watched others enjoy,
that which I loved and cherished at one point,
But after I abandoned her, my habit that is,
I asked her out once more,
and has not left me since,
She takes care of me when im happy or sad,
When I have been a good boy or bad.
She loves me no matter what,
Even If i did leave her once.
But I will leave her again,
Maybe today or when it has been enough,
But right now I will finish this pack,
And see what comes after.

Finally back home.
The amazing Texas sun shining on my face.
The warmth spreading through my body.
Listening to the sounds of the nature,
as I walk through the woods on my family farm.
Feeling safe, loved, and happy.
Surrounded by the family I haven't seen in months,
Some its been years, others I have never meet until today.
Just loving the feel of the rifle that is slung over my shoulder,
and the ammo in my back pockets.
Everyone is laughing and eating and talking.
As it gets darker and people start leaving...
We light the bonfire and the heat emanating off of it...
is too intense to even stand by.
When the day finally comes to an end,
I'm just happy that I am finally back home!

I love everything about you.
All the little things and big.
Even all the things that I hate.
I love how shy you are,
how annoying and sarcastic you can be,
how you dyed your hair black,
how long it is and how every time that you flip it my heart stops.
I love how your ears are pierced,
how you wear colored contacts,
how you can sit there for hours without talking,
how you would always get distracted and forget to text me back until hours later.
I love your abs and how I think you are smarter than me.
How you can act like an idiot, but know when to stop.
I love how you are so stubborn,
and your smile,
and how even your voice can give me comfort.
Everything!
I love everything about you!
I could sit here for hours just writing them all.
I have loved you since the day I met you.
And as hard as I try nothing in the world can change that.

So last night
I whispered all of your dreams unprompted
I saw your jaw drop but I tried to conspicuously not pay attention;
I just liberated you from from a bar of twenty men all drooling
I fend them off and kept two of you entertained with only one of me
and the dreams of my dreamy elusive brother coworker or friend
I paid a lot of attention to the needs and dreams of your cute companion
But if I'm honest
even though I was making sure she was safe
cause that's what i do
I was looking at you and dreaming
I was staring straight into your eyes
looking straight into your soul
I don't have much of almost anything
but I can look deep down and see true
most people really don't believe it
and i don't blame them, why would you?
But there was a moment there
In the garage while we were talking
when you were looking at me
like you loved me
more than anything
that had ever come or gone
and it was the briefest of moments
but i fucking swear i saw it
and it made me love you
with you dirty blond hair
and all of your compassionate let's just take care of my friend care
I mean, yes
Like i heard you
you have a boyfriend
you say it like it's means something
to someone like me
....who's only ever always confronted with adversity

I have a back burner
for you
and all of your friends
and it's not like
im saying anything
it's honestly
a little bit
of everything
but mostly
and surprisingly so
a lack of interest
in anything intelligent or courageous
it's like the human race took 5
and was all over it
so yeah
can't ever really quite describe
what I'm looking for
what lights up the fire
what stokes the soul
behind my eyes
cause i'm a believer
and i believe most true
and i think im feeling something
maybe i love you

...I remember who talked to me all night about everything
about significant things great and small
tiny odd reccolecctions
everything her things my things your things all things fuck pretty much everything
That I answered or said without saying as things that are true
I might have lied
Because you started talking like my dreams...
I covered every base what the fuck do you want me to do?
You were so fucking cool
I think I met your friend
Only to meet you
or your boyfriend...
fuck i seriously hope that one ain't true but like I'm a buhhdist now and can't say
It's like you have never met a man who see's the future
A gingerbread man baked and burned in the oven for fun
Who got tortured for years into a smile that we all love
It's like we all take things so seriously instead of laughing and drinking
and hearing the endearing lunacy of our friends
fuck if we just took a minute to wait and pretend to understand all of that darkness we let lurk in
it would be like a circus show of light delivering all of us from the three ring thing of everything
that is bad
our own macabre circus of rejection, judgement, and humiliation for all of our kind. So when you are done with your boyfriend, fiance, husband, i know not yet; talk to me first before every voyage and adventure set in opposition just for the fuck of it.
but what you can't count on
is that i'm so much older and I've been around
I don't think you might know what it is like
to double down
over years and years
it's like you get a discount
on the odds
for multiples of five years
cause who really lasts that long?
maybe me
Maybe you.
but who knows
cause life is like a lotto tarot hurricane
no sense to distribute the sad recompense
let's just fucking spend it before we pay
on all the debts we just made
and all of the futures that greyed out just fade(ed)
that's the point of grey vistas
all the deals and the souls we just promised in casual relation to make it
We try to pretend
we're all samurai
noble sacrafice to budo
it's cool that i alone must die
but i think we all smell some bullshit
in the way and the feel of this philosophy
that tells us to fight it instead of accept it
so let's beware those wayward philosophies
that perhaps might be misguided
telling us that nothing matters
now
or anytime
as opposed to those that tell us
to simply love
all of those that surround us

Azrael Always James
© Copyright 2013