(For Robin Williams)
I am watching porn, but I’m not paying attention.
I cannot believe he’s gone, but there are a lot of things I cannot believe that I still somehow must learn to accept.
I’m thinking of another period when an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth actually meant more than just beating yourself up and tearing yourself down.
I pretend I’m happy.
I know it’s a dangerous pastime, but I’ve always lived on the edge, especially when denial is the only drug that makes any honest to God sense.
Go ahead tell me I’m full of shit. I am used to your disapproval and unhappiness.
There’s a bridge to nowhere and a bridge to somewhere, and someday maybe I’ll discover what exists in-between.
I was naïve enough to believe poetry would save me, but at forty five I am starting to understand nothing will save any one of us and all we’re doing is putting off the inevitable.
I like to stand back and watch.
I like to take a leap of faith every decade or so.
I wouldn’t even mind falling in love if it lasted longer than the time it takes to clean up the mess.
Stop telling me I’ll never change.
I already have enough white noise in my head, and you’re not helping with all your status quo bullshit and bad energy.
I am finding it hard to accept he decided to go, but who can really blame him when the laughter and the applause were no longer doing the trick and all he was left with was the silence.