I, Understand

I went out later, ate without fear,
Despite the continuous ravages of my inner fear.
What is this?
Why speak?
Why seek? Why seek at all?
Love, glorious misery, the temporary peace of achievement,
The certainty of life,
The obvious and compulsory misery,
The compulsory end, death, the end.
I will myself to wake,
In the snowy patches between days,
Between the tinkling of happy thoughts,
Desperate for explosions.
The wind withdraws and dust is in its place,
The dust that we always wanted, the dust that we knew grew
From our own horrible cupboards and unending failures,
The failures of togetherness and community.
As light crystalizes morning and dissolves evening,
I admire its freedom, write a line, drink tea,
Nothing in me,
Like a fire melting its substrate.
I breathe ice into warm family portraits,
Black creepers onto ivy covered childhood houses.
Forever; carrying something, nothing,
We are machines, organisms of orgasm.
Nature flutters through dusk curtains,
Orange and white, satin and pleasure,
Blue and green,
And here a boy grows painful and old,
And is no more a man and will never be.
Here a girl approaches only to flee,
And a grandmother remembers sepia things,
And it is all she has, all she can have; she has no choice.
And here a mother speaks with that same joy to her wasteful son,
As she spoke to him the first time she saw him.
And here a son tries to be something he isn’t and is dying.
Father, burning villages with lies,
Lay aside your positions and your prestigious hopes,
And come simply towards me like that young wandering man
You once were
Because it isn’t like you to be so cruel or so vain.
I know you as that young man you once were, as the young man I now am.
Let us be, you and I, standing in this frayed patch of time,
Like brothers.
And come with me into this dark and dangerous world
But I cannot promise heaven or hell,
And I do not know what you will find.
Come within my folds of thought,
And you might see strange lights in the sky,
Or dark dust storms blotting out the sun.
And I do not know this path, or any path,
Through this synesthetic land.
If I knew I would long since have left,
And wandered and watched snowy paths
Dissolve into sharp mountains.
In time you will see, maybe now you will see,
That it was all a joke, a fiver, a stupid silly foolish bet,
And maybe then, maybe then you will learn to be happy.
And maybe then you will understand.

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