Going Going ..Gone..

The written word has evaded me for quite some time now. Perhaps, I have evaded it too. We have settled for being perfect strangers to each other(yes siree!).

Lots has occured. Things have changed. Seasons have passed us by and old skin has been shed for something new.

Death and detachment have surrounded me for a while now. Another call in the morning just added to the list.

She is an echo from my past. We wrote punk poetry bout Shakespeare and dreamnt of being published as a prolific authors when we hit puberty. We shared clothes, a penchant for all things chocolate, a love for satire and an overbearing manic depressive condition and occasional bouts of schizophrenia that threatened to destroy our respective existence. She lost her battle. Mine doesn’t seem to being going very well either.

It could have been me. Thats all I can think of …It could have been ME. If not for this intense will to live, that broken body in the foyer of a secluded high rise could’ve been mine.

Gone but not forgotten.

In Dylan’s words…

I’ve just reached a place
Where the willow don’t bend.
There’s not much more to be said
It’s the top of the end.
I’m going,
I’m going,
I’m gone.

I’m closin’ the book
On the pages and the text
And I don’t really care
What happens next.
I’m just going,
I’m going,
I’m gone.

I been hangin’ on threads,
I been playin’ it straight,
Now, I’ve just got to cut loose
Before it gets late.
So I’m going,
I’m going,
I’m gone.


~ by iconoplastic on January 12, 2007.

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