For a small comedy

And hope and hope and hope i say will keep me from the dark wilds of forgetting myself in the book of dead names and homesick faces hungry for the righteousness ready to arm itself against the world. for the focus of a curse. a cause. a reason to rise up from the leatherback life and have the merit to make new mistakes.

No matter who the fuck there is, tonight, to listen.

To see.

To feel the impact of decades spent desperately living the wrong way half the time just because it felt right to come home half-naked and bloody, mumbling something about god's glaring light to the cold, sweating mirror. the piss stain lost in the floor.

Those pattern days of low romance.

Cast off the comelately and staged.

Naive as pigeon prayer and the idiot feet marching onto the ides.

But i believe.

I have to.

Even curled against the sound of kisses. even swollen drunk and tracing the floor for a reason to welcome the morning when all i could do is sleep myself off into the thousands dead and shuffling. tapping. keening. lying to themselves that this poor excuse for a generation (then, before and since) is a goddamn way to treat the only chance they've ever had to be.

Their only goddamn shot at beauty.

I Just Make Faces.mp3