this was home

for a while all i wanted was space. and silence. city sound became punishing, like the thoughts i had toward myself. against myself. i hoped for a quiet place, where i might sit with my self and work out these difficult fears and feelings running me down relentlessly.

i hated myself into many panics. i let myself be used. sometimes the hope was two negatives would lead a positive charge. this method was in the end, mostly madness. i was no good at chemistry. but i thought i could run a current across my life.

prayer was ineffectual, in a time of spiritual deficit. i might try to pray. i was sincere. it came off bad. i could not often sit still unless i was terrified or sleeping. and i wasn't often either of those.

i could not quiet the city sounds. the cars, trucks, helicopters, voices yelling laughing screaming crying. trains. fireworks. motorcycles. gunshots. car accidents.

broken glass.

radios, televisions. doors. moving trucks. dogs, cats, animals. freight loading, unloading. babies. car tires. speakers. chains. subwoofers. arguments. fights. broken glass. screen doors. ambulances. basketballs. sirens. kids. deadbolts.

landlords, tenants, junkies going through withdrawals, laughter, mania. strange unearthly sounds. manias. depressive wailings. loud silences in certain bad places. soundless muted murder. dead silence. followed by violent storms of cacophonous cackling and butchering of the english or other language.

blank loud stares.

i found myself holding my breath.peeking through keyholes. wondering if i was next.

the law would come in, or a rent-a-cop. you could tell by the sound of the walk who was walking

by

the weight of the belt, the holster, gun, taser, keys. maybe it was just a maid or maintenance man.

i was often pacing or waiting for my number to come up. still distant. still hoping for a little space. quiet space. my internal would not have known what to do with it, though.

maybe push me more violently into thanatos gulch. or mad river quarry. the depths of which could not be fathomed by the human eye.

yes i certainly knew how bad a toll i had taken, how violently my bell had been rung, when, long after i let the burgeoning toxicity overtake me in that urban nightmare reality

pale and sick and past caring, angry and helpless to my reactive emotional.sad and skinny and losing my faith...

god gave me a chance to come up for air, in a little rented motel room some do gooder rented me, away from the urban amorphous ink night. and what did i do? after jumping for joy? i got so depressed like never before. i lay down and slept for two days and three nights...

then got up to such a madness, without thinking, movement away from that taciturn moment, quiet little retreat from my quiet retreat, orchestral movements in the light, pumping my legs by my feet on the pedals

screaming silently back to oakland from richmond, knowing the strange beauty in another terrible mistake, feeling the electric storm of old oakland overtake me, all the cacophonous sounds pooled into one current

coming across my body

high voltage seizing me all over again. the smell of homeless teenage angst wrapping around me like blanket with its piss warmth mental poverty

addictive, additive recycled air, oozing with traffic remoulade, parsed with law enforcement, sprinkled with social services, crusted with age-old desperations

i smiled and forgot myself again. lost my self in the insanity, cause this was home