I was there for his final confession and last rites
It was fitting, it was mete, it was proper, it was only decent
that no priest was present

Cracked breaking down can’t anymore
lonely always
Tired of what I’ve become
Unable to stop the Evil
Unable to breathe in the free
Lost to the empty back and forth
Wishing for money
Obsessed with leaving
Meaning to help I guess or whatever fuck
Desperate for my girl who never is and I guess never will be
The sinews begin to give way
The skin cracks like old parchments
The heart grows a cancer
called bitterness
It’s a muddle of disappointed longing, outraged affection, and
That betrayal

Words I can’t speak
The images sounds smells and feels that I cannot reach
Something lurks in the shadows
Back behind my shoulders and down my spine
Icy fingers reach in and discomfit me
A chaotic swirling screaming vortex gyrate out my belly and through the world as I touch and move it

I have been asked to kindly shut up
Keep it to myself
Leave well enough alone
I have been asked to pretend I know people who cannot hear my life as I live it

Everyone has their moods
Everyone has their little ups and downs
Everyone has the dark corners that no one needs to hear about all the live long day

But this isn’t like that

This is a hurt that has defined my life
A hurt that has driven me into one lonely disaster after another
This is a hurt that has robbed me of
Love, affection, a home of my own, my place in the world

And yet

The entire journey
The oeuvre, read or not,
The song, picked up by a chorus or left to wither and die alone in the sage-prickled desert winds,
All of that
Is the child of the Hurt

A child of
A Hurt that won’t forgive or forget
wed to
A Love that doesn’t let anyone down,
not even me
or you
dear reader or dear void

Enough preliminaries
Sufficient footsies
Let us begin

Author: John Loe Custsandwildhoney
Master of Ceremonies: Bartleby Willard
Reluctant Witness and embarrassed Confessor: Amble Whistletown
Copyright: Andrew Mackenzie Watson