funeral.

Today seems like a great day for a funeral.
I awoke with the rain racing its way through my gutters, a series of molecules screaming at one another nosily as they went on by. From my position buried under six foot blankets, surrounded by posters windows to other worlds, I imagined that above my head there would be a gloomy sky.
I was correct. For the third consecutive week, the rain is spilling down from the clouds as they move East to pick up Sulfur so they can eventually drop a weapon that has a chance to make a difference: acid precipitation. Enough to melt the faces from the statues, plenty to kill the bacteria fed on by the fish, eaten by the bigger fish, caught by a man in hip-boots, and then served to his family. The entire worth is about to go to war with mankind, the greatest parasite it has seen to date.
Anyway, back to today being a great day for a funeral. I woke up hoping I would find out that the entire outside world had burned away, taking my cares and obligations along with it. My soul feels heavy in these dead and dying fall days.
Yesterday was a lie, all yesterdays are a lie. A 60 degree apparition to remind us where the upper Midwest is heading in the next month. Where we have been, and how long it will take to get there. Summer has passed and most lovers have parted ways, determining that the thrill of autumn will outlast the emptiness of a barren winter.
This will be the last time I ask you to drown within my sea. Today will be the funeral. I ask that you look back and see where I have been.
Each man holds a novel inside his head, each women etches her own story into her hands. I hope someday, someone, will retell my tales. They are weak and muddled at best, but they exist. They are concrete. They are fluid. Someday this will be forgotten. Eventually, we all will. Our graves will hold our stories, the maggots will eat our fondest memories.
Today is only one step further. One step closer. There will be nothing more here, other than what is already annexed and listed. My memories. My dreams. The ways I have grown and changed. The tract I have taken from being a shivering boy in a black sweatshirt to a being what some would consider a grown man. I still am that little boy. I will never grow up.

I'm off to Neverland, hoping to avoid my last night in the nursery.

T-minus 2. (I miss).

T-minus 2. (I miss).

You will have two more chances to drown within my sea.
Yes, that is right, only two.
Once I reach 250, I will be moving on.
Starting new.
Making something fresh.
Or at least not so tainted.
I started doing this a long time ago.
When I first arrived in this place.
As a way to vent.
and dream.
and hope.
and impress.
I really did very little of all four.
Most of the time, this hasn't made sense to anyone.
Except a couple people.
Or one.
Or seven.
It all has depended on the day.
I have become a different organism from the first day of this.
When I do move on, it will be different.
Life is always changing, and we struggle often to keep up.
My head is always spinning, making it hard to focus.
Lately I have found myself missing things.
See also: yearning.
See also: desiring.
See also: searching.
See also: I bet you get the point.
This compilation of writings holds many things I miss.
It encompasses great times of change and strife.
Malcontent and vengeance.
It holds great romances and greater heartbreaks.
And finding love again.
I miss spinning and turning in the Vaudeville Mews.
See Also: The Pella Memorial Building.
See Also: The Waukee Community Center.
See Also: The Winterset VFW.
See Also: The House of Bricks.
I miss the electric air that one could drink walking down Court Ave. during those perfect summer nights. Nervous smiles, looking down to avoid eye contact with the dirty men begging change off us, the dirty kids.
I miss nights hanging out in Caldwell Park.
See Also: Central Park.
See Also: The Half Bridge.
See Also: Big Rock Park.
See Also: Westmarket Park.
I miss feeling uneasy, and not knowing where my next meal would come from. Who would be there at the end of the day. Where I would sleep. Who would befriend me. Who I could befriend.
I miss making music with John.
See Also: Fatty.
See Also: Daniel.
See Also: Michael.
See Also: Andrew.
See Also: Dustin.
I miss night time walking where I would feel like a man sitting in the bottom of a well: Perfectly covered in darkness, perfectly alone.
I miss dreaming and believing that I could truly do anything.
See Also: Journalism.
See Also: Rock and Roll.
See Also: Photography.
See Also: Poet.
I miss waking up every morning and wondering if anyone would talk to me: the kid with the bandage and marker covered arms, who had spent the night tumbling with his own demons.
I miss changing roles and trying to fit in.
See Also: Emo.
See Also: Hardcore.
See Also: Straight Edge.
See Also: Thrash Punk.
I miss attending things and not just waiting for them to be over, constantly stuck in the planning process of what are we going to do next.
I miss being a kid.
See Also: Not saving money.
See Also: Being boastful.
See Also: Getting in fist fights.
See Also: Drinking unreasonable amounts of liquor.
I miss not having to care what other people thought, and the concept that if you did know what other people expected of your self-image, it was probably best to spit in their face and disappoint them.
I miss insomnia.
See Also: All night Myspace creeping.
See Also: Writing disjointed thoughts.
See Also: Four hour interesting phone calls.
See Also: Conor for company.
I don't know what I am trying to say. Where I am trying to go. I just know that right now, at this very second, I feel like the miner at the bottom of the coal shaft: Stuck looking upwards with no company from the canary that has gone silent in my lunch pail.


There are no new words to say.
There are no new actions to complete.
There is nothing left, but to take deep breaths,
and look the other way.