There he was
"He"
But him
Peeking around corners
That house
The one on Balcom Lane?
Not quite.
The mammoth wooden doors and startling interiors
A mesh of the Waco mansion
and the Motyckas', God knows why.
Fancy houses are vessels for empty thoughts.
Oh, but there he was,
God of my past
I can't deny it.
He searched for me. He
seduced me.
But I knew.
I knew.
He wasn't unbetrothed.
No, she was there, somewhere.
Ah, yes, she interrogated me.
And I...
Was I honest?
My body ached for him.
Just like the night before.
How did he find her so fast?
Why was there dead air on the phone that night?
I think I just felt the wind shake my house.
God is blowing it all away.
My memory too, it drops away in pieces.
So I grabbed that pen.
I mean this one.
I hold it; it's "this."
I see it; it's "that."
But neither exist, neither are, right?
Thank you, Timaeus.
You showed me how the world once was,
how men once saw it to be.
But now, the "gruesome houses."

He's still there.
His face.
Just barely though.
Oh, life, how I love your perpetual motion, replacing each moment with the next, before I even know the first is gone!
sometimes.
But then there are the ones when I wish it would all slow down.
Or worse, turn back.
The will moves only forward.
Always ahead & never behind.
That's what I control.
Not 2007.

Heh, he didn't need me.
It ripped my heart out & rended it apart.
I do love brown ales though.