Hello & Goodbye

All melodramatics aside,
maybe I’ll die tomorrow,
I ask myself every day,
what am I living for anyways,

sure I’ve got my friends,
friends such as you,
but honestly after I’ve given up the ghost and gone,
maybe you’ll mourn a bit but then that’ll be it,

I’m sick with something drugs can’t cure so why not quit,
I mean I’m bored of this life anyways,
I suppose I can’t go until my parents die though,
because no parent should ever see their son pass,

or daughter,
I authored,
a collection of poetry larger,
than any other author every who bothered,
to even write poetry,
and this includes Emily Dickinson,
but I’m not here to compare,
I’m here to make a statement,

all melodramatics aside,
maybe I’ll die tomorrow,
I ask myself every day,
what am I living for anyways,

chasing my addictions,
not the least of which is women,
not to objectify women,
but honestly every thing and one is a drug,

even you,
even me,
even the words,
that create this poetry,

I’m searching,
for some relief,
or at least,
something to fill the hole in my heart,

I’m missing something,
and I can’t quite find what it is,
I suppose it’s difficult to get what you’re looking for,
if you don’t know what what your looking for is,

fck this,
and no I didn’t mean to cuss,
but sometimes that happens,
when recording stream of consciousness,

this is me,
in all my honestness,
no apologies no excuses,
just these thoughts that turn into muses,

that I’ve learned to describe,
in away attractive enough to get paid,
two #1 books in a row,
and I just give all the profits away,

randomly picking a charity,
because any charity can use the money better than I can,
I just spend it out speeding up my time of death,
and I can’t help it but don’t blame me it’s not like it was part of my plan,

I’ve given all that I can,
dedicated my everything to the words that compose these books,
I’ve sacrificed any resemblance of a normal life,
so that others can live and learn through these words,

I have no children,
and I left every good woman that wanted to marry me,
what many don’t understand is in order to be one of the greats,
you have to dedicate your whole life to the craft,

and that makes for a lonely road,
I guess that’s why every artist is disturbed,
but it’s the pain in the poetry that numbs the pains of reality,
and this much I’ve begrudgingly understood,
since I when I started writing,
wrote my way back from suicide,
had slashed my wrist ready to reset,
because sometimes to really live you’ve gotta die,

I write,
at a fervorous pace,
making up words as I go no time to conform to literary norms,
I’ve got a date with Destiny and we have History to make.

Get it?

A date with Destiny,
get married and have a baby called History,
it’s just another parallel analogy,
see I’m a double entendre monster with this poetry,

addicted to the way these words feel,
like I’m addicted to the way a women feels,
for the love of God,
I love her so much in this surreal world sometimes she’s the only one that feels real,

please,
come here,
hold me I’m slipping,
I’m losing sight of life I need a reminder why I’m alive,

I need you,
I’m not joking,
alone as a tombstone on a deserted island with no cemetery,
alone as a miner trapped in a coal mine or rather as alone as the canary,

feeling sick from the carbon monoxide and other toxins that this civilization spews,
and like I said before all melodramatics aside I’m lost and ready to die but that’s old news,

there is no new news,
I’ve done it all win lose or draw,
I’ve played every game walked every avenue,
I’ve written everything I’ve seen and I’ve seen it all,

so all melodramatics aside,
maybe I’ll die tomorrow,
I ask myself every day,
what am I living for anyways,

sure I’ve got my friends,
friends such as you,
but honestly after I’ve given up the ghost and gone,
maybe you’ll mourn a bit but then that’ll be it,

my body will die but my books will still live,
because every word I write is given as a gift,
I was given this gift of gab so I use it,
to scribe our collective consciousness,
it’s a ***** job but somebody’s got to do it,
so I guess I’ve been elected with is fine it’s not like I have any kids,
and sure when I’m gone I might be missed,
but you’ll always have my books and I’ll live through these words,
immortalized like a statue of stone erected in the museum of life,

I’ll take this one for the team don’t worry I’ll be just fine,

I,
I,
I,
I feel sick,
I’m ready to sleep,
I’ve given this world every word that ever came to me,
now please,
just let me be,

lonely as an abandoned house becomes,
after all the children have grown and gone away,
after the parents become old and pass,
and nature begins to reclaim every inch of him,

ivy grows along the outer walls,
tree roots crack the foundation,
the roof finally caves from the incessant rains of time,
and the soul of the home is sent to another destination,

I’ve been waiting,
for someone anyone to come here and hold me,
to tell me that they are here that they love me and will never leave me,
but no one’s come yet and if they did and they said that they’d be lying because everyone eventually leaves,

Hello,
goodbye,
I’m,
leaving,

all melodramatics aside,
maybe I’ll die tomorrow,
I ask myself every day,
what am I living for anyways…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆


24/08/16

Sintra, Portugal