Here in Holden I forget all the memories acquired in sun
They all tumble and I could stop it if I wanted to stop
Pouring ***** in my head as a song before bed
Two-****** whiskey drinker caught in the present,
Displaced in time. And another and another til
she upgrades to doubles at no extra charge cause
she loves how my face 'round means she's safe at least
til I leave and she's sweet and pays me in drinks I
don't need as bad as money and a stable place.
Here in Holden B-Block I play games with my memories
I tumble hard and I could stop it if I wanted to stop
Too fun to open a door and fall through the floor
to the blackness of past as you stand from your stool
to play pool in the back as you can't keep your cool
so you retreat. Always retreat.
Here in Holden, underground, I **** on the memories
I made under sun now
bathed only in krypton light
scaring cats from the cans
behind the brush as I
rush to get it all out.
Spit it all.

See, it's like this. What I feel is dependent on what's real.
And I do to the people and things around me what it
takes to protect them and keep them intact. Most of
the time. Though in fact, doing to the tune of truth
isn't always the best act. You can't withhold what
others share, create or damage. You can withhold
what you share with others. And from you, my brother,
I do believe after reflecting til the present time, I
and you would have been fine if I had actually
stopped and thought about what actually was best.
But instead I stepped out of bounds you'd set
that I'd confirmed and said yes, to put my own
needs first in the name love -- something or other --
and not stop till I had your ex. You even confronted me
and said it wasn't a trip you could handle emotionally.
**** me. It was no accident, it remains that I could have
prevented an incident, now I'm ashamed of myself
for disrespecting another who discovered me young
and kept close, even when I couldn't keep my nose clean.
Maybe I can't, still. I'm sitting sipping at four hour old
coffee in a diner alone to still the upset. But I can't do.
I can't hold it in any longer. I've been a bad person
paying a part of the toll in deep regret. I can't forget
that I owe you more than I could ever say. That's
why I'm writing you on a legal tablet at midnight,
a dozen or more yellow pages with an empty pen
scratching holes bathed in the laserlight. I guess
I'm in the past again, writing you, groping for
parts I know must still be there to fill the holes
in my heart as hard as it is to admit cause I know
there's no redemption.

He said I got all my life ahead of me
to stop kicking my teeth in when
it's not others delivering kicks
covering me in spit in passing
Life is the essence of difficult
leaving you being and breathing
and thinking when all you want
is the option to disappear but
it's the fear, so clear, when you're
alone or homeless or in a pit
that ain't six feet that it easily seems
descending, that is the definite call
to action, man, I can't say the words
to save you, you're in your own hands
but if you're listening stop pretending
that you can't hear the reverberation
on your insides. Maybe you'll die
young and me too, but not with the
mind's eye closed that's why I plea
to keep you running on empty when
you're friendless, when you're so far
from blessed, you're cursed, and wishing
for an enemy. Hate me now for the truth,
I don't hate you. Stare down at the ground
at your shoes if it pays, I can't help but
notice you notice you're built for more,
and you're due.

And then he comes in. Like a whirlwind.
Flipping his arms and crossing them,
can't tell if he's plotting or genuine in
his vehemence. Virulent eyes compliment
perfectly venomous sentences or just
as quick turn icy blue if it's better to give
me the shoulder. He can't believe to this
day I'd betray what was left of his confidence
in me and I ain't going to lie I've been a liar
caught in the web I thought I had protection
against. He saw me there by the sidewalk
then caught up in happenstance, cavorting
with an upsetting ghost supposed to be left
in the past, but he don't understand, I can
shut off the phone or ignore every message
received in belief and knowing I deserve
more than this woman ever gave, but I refuse
to be cruel with active intention to a life
I simply have no other choice but to rearrange.
He said, I hope you're not doing this for me
when I started to change, to climb higher
and rise up from the grave I'd been digging
out for myself with utter complacency,
shedding passivity for determination in exchange
and in the end it all seemed good till a misstep,
hell you invited me back into the bed where
you slept so we could be together and both sleep.
Call me naive. Dependent. **** it, I guess I was
but I now I understand being played by a hypocrite.
Nothing can be every way for you, so now
that I'm getting up on two feet you feel you
can't be a friend to me. Rather than take a breath
to exhale your bitterness you'd expel me with
superficial rage hiding indifference. Called naive.
Dependent. **** it, I guess I was but now
I understand what you said before, yes,
and I'll take a stand, I'm worth about as much
work as I'm putting in, to the mind I am, to
the body I hold, but it's old. I doubt you're
listening. History repeats. You build me
up. You destroy me. You fill my heart.
You silence beats. You power me.
You're wearing down my energy.
I'm off work. So I'm sitting down
under the open sign at Marian's
with a cigarette.