The old man walks the dog. Or the dog pulls the old man. The audiences own interpretation. A war breaks out between oxymoronically ideas. A fiend for energy and power. Front row at an Imax. And spring will come, in cold Antarctica. A pink cherry blossom, falling in front of my eyes. Instigates change. A progression, perhaps! David will pass by. A ghost in the water. “Hi Fishy!” And I’ll hold back tears, kid. I’ll close my eyes. Don’t listen. Too old for such a society. Parents dead. The ultimate suicide. The kid that just wanted to be normal. Conform. And things will get better in cold Antarctica. But wait, the game isn’t over. Let’s go through the who, what, where, when, why and how’s? David. Suicide. Aunts home. March 20, 2009. At the peak of his life. Hanging. All seems so simple. But why this cold feeling in my stomach? Self pity and fear.
I’m the one you hate, the cold breeze. With David gone, life seems so fragile. So easy to screw up, so easy to call it quits. With Adrienne’s voices, I’m nothing. The mirror present. And what does she intend for me to see? A monster, inside and out. I’m not the pretty one. The one who’s siblings come and go like a bed and breakfast. Alone. An artist? Me, no. Nothing is permanent. And every morning, I go off to a prison. Would you help the blind man find the sidewalk? Or push him deeper into the middle of the city? My intentions were to never hurt you. But I did and the center of the universe unfolds. And in your darkest moments, I wait. But all becomes silent. I end up thinking and talking to myself about my issues. The biased approach comes about, with my insecurities and anxiety pushing to one side. The high tide is needed, to wash away the embedded sand.