THE VOID WITHIN
In Memory of my Father
People just fall through my hands, through the cracks of my life, like I am an open sieve. I don’t feel any attachment to anyone so I don’t lament their passing away into history. About so many people I think “well who the fuck were they” and “what was I thinking being with them anyway”? I don’t feel anything for any other human being and that is my truth and my path to travel. Faces and laughter swim into focus and then fade into blackness, swallowed by the fog of my thoughts. If I had a family would things be different? If my parents had treated me better would I be more human? It is an academic hypothetical question because the only reality is the way I am now. The damage is done. I cannot change. I’m trying to understand how it all came undone. How I let it all slip away. Why I felt so sick. Even now it’s all still falling apart. Like sand dunes eroding, unstoppable, inevitable. I’m swept beneath the shifting sands of my life. Sometimes I think about other things, like living, sure it’s nice to think. My thoughts have the substance of dreams. My dreams are gone when I awake. If I tried to learn to fight for years more I would not get any better. I’m not made for it. I was a shadow boxer fighting ghosts. Why force myself to be something I’m not? I would just be someone else’s kicking bag.
If you’re small and slow you don’t pick fights. Even less so if you’re insane and afraid of everyone. Can I just sleep now? Just let all the horrible ugliness fight each other and eat itself. Can I just pass over this life, please? TV and late nights: Silence and music: Solitude and introspection. Memory and regret: Desire and un-fulfilment: Fear and hate. Anxiety and depression: Obsessions and compulsions. And finally and most importantly: letting it all go. I truly don’t care about you now. I live here now but I will be gone soon. I hope I never see you again. I wish you were dead. I’m praying for that. That’s all that I care about you, your death is all. And me? What is me? Me is gone. Me is unknown. Me is undecipherable. Me is nowhere and nothing. I’m known to no-one, avoiding all social contact, looking in the mirror at my thinning hair. My youth is gone: how did I spend it? Have I wasted it? I have kept my life all to myself.
I want to run away to the circus on the Sun. I’ll tame Sun Lions. Walk in the Sun-shine. Grow Sun flowers. Give birth to my parents. Sew my clothes with time. Listen to my favourite song: the Big Bang. I’ll drive a clown car made of Iridium. I am a house and all my doors have no locks. People walk straight through me. I try to be humble: think small. The Sun is the centre of the universe and I am not. In nature the weak make alliances with the strong to survive. Today the wind blew everything away: gravity: my face: Azalea flowers: the future. Just dancing in the heat. The smell of glue. Saints are crying. Time refuses to be chronological. The dead speak. I am young again. I am old. I am yet to be born. Tomorrow is a thousand years from now. Today happened in prehistory. I have friends on the Moon. I hope to go there soon. I write down some numbers and the world tilts on its side. My father speaks through a crystal. I saw them in the show. Waited and queued for hours to get in. Why didn’t I see then? The signs are always there. I always know. But I don’t trust my sixth sense. I laugh. And this house is every house before. Every flower is the flower I saw before. Love is always there. Time stands still. The world shudders to a halt at the edge of a cliff, teeters and falls into an abyss. But we listen to the football scores after the evening news.
What’s new? Ebola in Africa: people bleeding out as every one of their organs shuts down. Here in the West nothing is real. We have the HIV drugs. Life. Feels. Nothing. So shoot up a high school to feel something, anything at all. Ass clowns in the White House. Paedophiles are in the Vatican. Saints push shopping carts full of trash. We send our boys to war. Right to life! Right to life! Right: New Right: re-medievalisation. New hope. I am a light! An incandescence: hot white heat: light transmitting to all the dead stars. Entropy is repelling the waters. It’s all one vast tide and we are swept before it, spinning, turning, in summersaults, end over end, thrown together, torn apart, sliding forward. God revoked heaven. We slide off the edge of the world: the square, flat world. Sunflowers. Fire. Lions. Gold. My father died today. I saw him in a coffin. It was a lovely day. I remembered holding his hand, walking with him in our garden. I heard his voice ask “will you carry my coffin mate”? And I replied “I’ve got you Dad, I’ve got you_________________________________________________
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