For James

The fine print of life is that no one ever tells you that it also includes death.

No one mentions that the cycle of life includes the dark part, the part when the sun goes down and the daemons come out; and no one ever really wants to listen when the heart stops and the brains stops and the breath ceases to come. 

They don’t want to talk about that. 

The thing about the light is that it’s taken for granted and when we go to sleep at night, we expect that it will be there in the morning, but what if I woke up and there was no light? 

The thing about the dark is that it’s unknown and the usual way I use my senses won't get me by—I have to use something else to see in the black—I must learn to see with my ears and my fingers and my heart. 

The thing about talking about the light and the dark is that seeing these black flecks on white paper makes me think that the rest of life is not like this, but here it is, when I get it down and look at it, everything becomes a little more clear, a little more comprehensible. 

One more thing about the light is that it can only be had because of the dark. It takes two to Tango, the light and the darkness. And yet, if there was only light, I also wouldn't be able to see because there would be no outline of shapes to form my body into a language to tell you that I love you.

Dry mouth

Because I like starting sentences with the word "because," and I enjoy watching people squirm. Because I know you because I know me. Because each time I sit down to write, I tell myself, "You can do better," so I stop. Because what we most need to learn is often the most uncomfortable. Because I'm blessed, not lucky. Because she loves him and he doesn't know what a good thing he's got. Because if we can't tell the truth, then what else is there to say? Because if you're willing to "get off it" you might just learn something worthwhile. Because I can and you can and we will, no matter what, continue to do what we do. Don’t fuck it up, not even because you can; although sometimes I’d like to. I’d like to just disappear because I can, but that’s not the point. I’m not sure when the point is but I do know what it’s not, and why. Because today is the day after my birthday. Because I’m 25 now and not getting any younger and the only thing left for me to do is practice what I have been taught. Because practicing is the essence of what is, and what is the reality of the situation whether I like it or not. Because I’m blonde. Because I’m a women. I know you because I know me, and I know me because I pay attention. PAY ATTENTION! And be grateful. And don’t kill, and stop whining, and remember to just be kind because that girl sitting in front of me has way more to overcome in her life than I do. How do I know? I told you already pay attention. Because if it weren’t for words I’d be at a loss, and because of words I’m also at a loss. Because I try too hard to make you like me. Because I could really care less what they thought of me, at least in this town. Because I’m through with pleasing other people. Because my life is about God. Because I dress up for the Divine. Because I want something much more than a cappuccino, but damn, that sounds good right now. Because love is all you need and the voices in your head are probably lying. Because the body is capable of so much and those men in white collared shirts—do they iron their shirts or do their wives? Does it matter? Because that fact is I could go on, and on, but I won’t. Because it’s all been said before in different languages. Parce que. Porque. لأن. Fordi. Sest. Επειδή. Mar gheall ar. Deoarece. Vì.

This is for Thursday

When there’re so many voices in my head but no one’s listening because it’s raining like the tears coming down my face. I scream at the roof of my car because it’s the only thing that will take what I have to say without getting hurt or trying to fix it. Don’t fix it because I’m not broken, just need a moment to let it out. Get me out of the whirlpool of emotion. It’s a black hold, a thing that’s gravity to too big to even fathom and in the end it doesn’t matter because it’s not about me anyhow. There’s no sense in crying dear, because it’s just makes your makeup smeary and your eyes puffy. Nothing ever leaked from laughing so laugh away at the hilarity of all that is real and not real. It’s not over ‘til it’s over and even then it’s not really over because nothing ever dies and if nothing ever dies did it ever begin? Has your life yet begun?