It’s not as if you’re the first person to do that to me. You don’t want this crazy weird person in your life so you separate, stop communicating, ignore, draw that big invisible Lucy line down the complex of our world. You have other things going on, things to do careers to pursue like everyone, time waits for no one and no one has time for the weary and waiting. Clocks move, people grow, better more stable relationships present themselves so why not take advantage? Whatever I did for you in the past is not relevant at some point, there is no blood brother loyalty like lifelong latino familia. You can help a lot of people all the time or some of the time and you can give of yourself as best you can but the harsh reality is you’re not supposed to expect much back, not with these issues in the fold; mental illness and Ridgemont times makes fairweathers flee.
Life is short, says every person who goes home to relax and binge watch Netflix or stand in long lines for marked up food and drinks. People can hold you down, make things more complicated. Who really wants that drama except martyrs and fallen angels? Spent a number of years being an ear and a shoulder, wet with the sorrow of dire birds cutting their wings; piqued and pecked and left on the side road for some avian avenger to swoop in and support and feel better about their life cycle. We go round each other blabbing and spewing guts and sentiment, emotions and painful exhortations. Laughing lachrymose loitering in low point alley, loosing lambasts and ll.. who the fuck cares.
We are drug culture, excess, highs and highs and losing lows, letting go of drag and soulful anchors. Speed demons racing towards notions and goals and needing the nitro and dumping weight. Drama, baggage, neediness refined into avant garde dada arthouse plays acting the superior but begging approval and applause. Say the right words to me. Come when I need the body close; human heat is still better than the smack. Afflictions breed addictions and the candy crutch saga begins the beguine. I dance alone and try to laugh with the world. You laugh, we laugh, they laugh and I’m turned cheek riding into burning desert sun towards vague horizons like Desperado on a Lone Ranger trip taunting Tonto to travel along. But lone rides, no linger. Cursory hand holding and inner strength refurbishing, pushing myself cause I’m the personal trainer. I need no accolades or forceful back shadow, I’m the pusher, the penis mightier. Heisenberg knocks and I skip doors and perceive the vision of peace of mind.
Ahimsa buddha baby rolling 20s like vaude villain lovin ladies. For the ego uplift and spiritual updrift. Burning in the sun with that is what it is spliff.