i can be your crutch

You can say things to me like “i can be your crutch,” and I will smile and nod and the sound will work its way through me. I’ll get the general idea and we may bond. We’re lonely together for a reason. You can tell me I am weird and I will smirk and you may or may not look into my iris and it might possibly begin to look like the depths of another world, or galaxy even, if that’s where it takes you. Or it might not. I won’t know unless you tell me. And you won’t know unless I tell you. Tell me so I can get the general idea and I can smile and nod and we can be there. We are here lonely together for a reason, after all. Memories of affection or lack of affection travel through you at the sound of the planet, anchored by the heaviest gaze you can even sit with. The heavier we get the more we lie together, weighed down by words we’ve shared, tiny oral expressions passed ceaselessly back and forth for hours. This is how we’ve always tried to get out of ourselves and into each other.

I have used expression precisely and in a way that conveyed abstract thought before. Did it do me any good? I couldn’t say.

“I would quit and join The Rolling Stones for you. If I could.”

Certain people are going to understand you. They are going to confiscate you, even. Carry you away, and you’re going to give yourself up. You’re going to give yourself up absolutely to them, these people who Want you, because you want too, more than mostly anyone, I imagine. Maybe they make you feel things no one else has tried yet and even more people will arise. Maybe you will nurture their children and maybe you’ll dislike them for it while your attractive, youthful life dissolves fast.

What I’m saying is you could structure me. I could dissolve you. We could spend all day together in my studio. We can interfuse together. I’ve disintegrated before and had little to show for it. A person can get scattered after a while. I’ve seen it happen. It’s as easy as being abandoned up on a shelf or in the middle of the floor, a person just shows up and cleans you up after a bit. Can’t blame a person for wanting to keep their space nice and neat and I’m not sure how else one ought to deal with ashes. No, I don’t want to decay anymore. What I’m looking for is a sort of cashmere experience. I want to be woven, is what I’m saying. It’s an art we can do around the place, learn together in our own time, but once you’re down, you’re absorbed. You’re connected.

I once saw wild cats mating when I lived on my farm in Sudan. If you are unfamiliar with cat procreation, that may be because house cats usually go about it secretly. Sudanese cats apparently aren’t, they copulated right in front of us while their kittens watched in the background. An essential thing to know is that the male feline penis can be represented like the spikes in a parking facility that come up to keep you from backing in. He gains entry and the spikes branch out and there is no withdrawal without repercussions. I watched them with their offspring and the female’s bawling rose from a low purr to a rabid shriek. He finished and she bit him and that was that. An act of brutality for sure, but what isn’t? Have you gotten so detached from where you are, what you are, that you don’t realize that all human interaction is arbitrary? Have you been so empty and lost that this seems deplorable? If this makes you feel depressed then you asked for it. It’s the tremor of your derelict soul caving in on itself and you need to contend it with brute, a lot. Yes, I am certain that even when my mother was breast feeding me it was arbitrary to a certain degree.

There are repercussions for you and me. A man told me, “I can’t be the guy at the bottom of the stairs holding the flowers anymore.” I can’t either but I miss how painful it felt. The fact of the matter is I don’t know who I was 4 years ago. That’s the pleasant thing about pain, you don’t have to take it candidly. It can manifest as confidant a feeling as you want and you can construct your own monuments in you. Make my nervous system my confederate, make my demons my captives, and I can love you if you want. It’s not my choice. Gandhi once told his wife he couldn’t tell her that he loved her more than any other human because it wouldn’t be just. If you are fascinated and are pondering how you too can become this much of a gangsta, I will tell you how.

Be really nice to people without wanting anything in return so they in turn consider your spirit is free and spend it freely. Love “unconditionally" until you are exhausted and break. This is what is sometimes called a “long scam,” but if you are willing to do anything adequately it is going to have to be done regularly over time. If you can convince a person to marry you, imagine what else you could persuade that person to do. Imagine what that person will be able to convince you to do. And you’ve chosen to feel bad about it. Will you perform immeasurable acts of brutality to protect your precious, bitter ego? Maybe.

But what if you weren’t here in my grey matter?

What I’m saying is, you are and that’s why it’s so important to be here, now.

I will tell you I love you if that’s what you want to hear. I will mean it if that’s what you require. Don’t take this the way it seems. We can have our love first and constitution second. You know that everything we do together is basically a transfer of energy, right? People use their energy differently. We have random beliefs of how much we think we deserve to receive and how much we are willing to give out and what I’m saying is I want to figure it out with you.