Took Red

I don’t care, as long as it’s good. I feel easy, though I know that shit makes it hard for me to say that. Regardless. I feel easy. It’s what’s going on around me that’s hard–it’s death and love and fear and longing. It’s curiosity, hellfire, guilt, exposure. It’s the unveiling of undeniable duality that runs the ebb and flow. It’s going back and forth through time. It’s fish swimming in circles. It’s ghostly children telling me their mothers were with him when he went. It’s fluid built around the heart. It’s all my past selves playing hide and seek with me now. It’s feeling warm in someone’s arms. It’s a smile through all that darkness so a set of white teeth show through the obscure. It’s dropping the blue pill down the drain. And it’s me wanting to be something I’m proud of. It’s me trying to just get a grip. It’s me ripping off the skin to see how things really go. I’d like to have all that come without me knowing. But I’m aware and there’s no off switch for a third eye, I’d say. And I took The Red.

in the shower-

I’m driving down this road at noon. Somewhere in Arizona. The mirage glimmers are tinted aviator brown. My shades.

I pass the mile markers, I get older and I realize that Love just doesn’t give a shit. It doesn’t care about morals, and it doesn’t distinguish between right and wrong, left and right, between angels and demons.

Details like those mean nothing to Love.

You can love a criminal in the same unbiased way you love a baby. There’s something in Love that takes out all thoughts of duty and fear.

And when shit hits the fan, the day of judgment’s damned. Even for the holy.

I know now that’s how it goes and goes and goes.