Sunday, September 16, 2018


I can write about you until I am blue in the face
It comes so naturally it scares me like monsters under the bed or undrunk beers, left on the counter to get warm and pithy
There you were. Nearly levitating off the ground like a magician’s assistant or a guru who knows their shit and refuses to push it down someone’s throat like a big orange carrot or an unbaked religious canon that never quite forgives anyone

Do I stay or do I go?
Do I continue to plumb the depths of my mind and pray streams of consciousness shoot from my fingers like magic boogers or lightning bolts that Zeus himself would be jealous of?
It’s 2:25 AM. I’m about to watch the last episode of You Me Her. Third season and if you’ve never watched it its quite good and never fails to put a smile on my face, when I cannot seem to pick myself off of the floor and my heart just won’t stop beating like Ringo’s bass drum

Grand gestures and rom-coms have never done much for me and yet they still make me grab for the box of tissues that’s just out of reach and unwilling to commit to a good, hard blow
I’ve fought against convention all my life and that goes thrice when it comes to whatever gainful employment is and a significant other that you discover is not quite the right fit at the most inopportune moment
I know I’m walking a fine line and I best never use my art as an excuse to duck out of making the difficult choices

Till death do we part or impart the wisdom we wouldn’t wish upon our worst enemy and yet is the only thing that makes any actual sense
You see me for who I am and see through the opaque me that shows up when everything has become too abstract to properly digest or plow through like a John Deere with ADHD
Katie Boyd you possess the wisdom and the moxie to know when to dance beneath the moon and when the wolves are on the hunt. You stun me like a Taser that never runs out of juice and keeps me both alive and dead and for some strange reason that works for me like gangbusters

Charles Cicirella

No comments: