I am staring at this page, hoping that somehow, the words will just start writing themselves and I’ll be able to just press publish post without a bit of effort. It’s always worthwhile once I get moving and motivated and going, but I have struggled all day. I am hoping that Queen Mab will take me quick tonight since a typically atypical series of events has lead me to participate in an early morning meeting that my boss usually covers because of several things too TMI to mention here. And I volunteered to cover! All this talk and learning about taking time for myself, but at any rate, none of that matters or at least doesn’t matter to me in this instance.
Right now, I want to talk to you, oh skeleton, oh bag of bones and decay, oh, best beloved memory. Right now, I wish to demand you to corporeate! I wish to compel you. Not to rattle you along the floorboards in a dance, not to ask you secrets of the afterlife, but for you to wear the hat and make the voice of the man I once knew. Because the gap is gaping that you’ve left and while, I am learning to fill it up, it’s happening cup by bloody cup. I think some of the water’s evaporating as I go. But at least it’s not a thimble. At least it’s not the grand canyon, though you might joke it would be that large when you were done with it. Gross, terrible, without meaning it, but always being available to mean it. In a weird way, it’s just like this day has gone.
I gave you up for dust, sent you to every corner of the world, and you watch me call you back over and over again. A torment if I was yanking you from heaven, a fate I doubt you were ever destined for. But I would leave you there if I had one particle of your care back. Even your feigned curtain of care that had offered me brief moments of access to the man behind. Back when you had flesh and I had a very willing spirit. Because naught else has compared to that. Naught else has drawn me in and asked for me to play along.
The dog on the long white beach, at the moment, won’t hunt. Affable enough, and then given to sourness. Has he given up on whatever delight he imagined in me? Has he a hope that you never entertained? You would smile nearly every time, save the end, that I walked in. You merely wanted someone else on your chess board, another crow on your wire, but it wasn’t merely to me. It was life. It was so, ever so much more, than even I ever knew. God, to this day, I wish I’d known you’d be snatched up and cast into perdition. I would have tied some thread to you, some lasso, some breadcrumb trail I could follow. I daydream that I’ll take a trip and find myself seated next to you on the plane. It feels nice to imagine us fated that way.
Though I know we aren’t. And the dog barks because it’s hungry. And all I have are your old bones.