"Waitress"

I see you, and suddenly death is life:

mourning itself slithers away.

I am different, I am reborn, I am alive.

I am oblivious to my grief,

indifferent as a man who feels not and sees not

but this suddenly painful desire.

I see nothing but your hair and your haughty eyes;

you see through me and I do not care.

I see you, and life has not been taken from me,

when in fact it has, and death is imaginable.

I see you, and in death I am alive,

in this wonderful illusion of life.

The inconsequential is not, where darkness suddenly

is light, and death is life.

I breathe and desire:

my sunset is the same from one day to the next.

The whiskey dulls my pain, but opens my eyes.

I see you, a shadow in a dream so suddenly real,

as your own haughty eyes see through me:

I am not even here.

I am an old man in death mode.

###

At 51

It's my birthday.
I know you're there. I know you're there.
You know my birthday wish.

Just asking for mercy

I've wanted to die since December 20, 2011.
No rationalizations.
Just a wish for mercy.
Call me a bad person, if you wish, but grant me that mercy.
After all this time, give me mercy.
After all this time.
Still, nothing.
Does mercy even exist?

Hate you, hate you

I hate you, "God," if you do indeed exist.
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

Before I sleep

My dearest Vixen,

I have been so depressed as of late, more than a year after I let you go, and I miss you terribly. Losing you has devastated me. I begin my days wishing never to have awakened. It is at its worst the first few hours after waking up--always to a world without you, a world where I felt I had to let you go. A world without my baby, my Vickisensen, my Hunhun, my Sensen, my love. I feel this heaviness bearing down on me. I cry. I cry. Without those two hours a day in bars or wherever I could let my mind go blank, drinking beer after beer, life would have been unbearable. Even then, life is unbearable, my baby, my love, my Sensen.

How can there be a "God" if that god would let me live this long without you? Where is mercy? I hate waking up to a world without you. I hate sleeping in a world that doesn't have you.

My dearest Vixen, I need to go. If there is mercy in this world, I need to die. I walk this world in pain, every day in pain. The days are dark and cruel. If we cannot be together, then let me at least be dust again. Joined in dust with my babies, with Boobie and Almond, with Garpy and Prudence, with Eenie and Minnie, with you, my baby, my dearest baby, my Vixen. How can a merciful "God" let me go on with this everyday torment? I let you go, but right or wrong, it was done out of love. I love you, my baby, my baby, and my life has been hell since I let you go. Should I have let you linger and suffer with the cancer in your lungs and ribs? Should I have let you waste away in pain, with no hope for recovery?

How I miss you, my Sensen, my Hunhun, my Bebiya. How I wish I could have our years back, all those years with Boobie and Almond, and with just the two of us, the two of us, my baby.

I love you, my baby. The pain of losing you never stops. May I sleep today and never awake. May death and mercy find me finally.

A desperate wish before I sleep.

Lovingly remembering Pru (April 2, 1999-January 13, 2006), on the anniversary of her birth

Happy birthday, my dearest Prudence, my Pru-pru, our wonderful baby Pru.

You were such a joy to us, our Pru-pru.

We are all less because we lost you, all too soon. All of you, just all too soon.

Happy birthday, my baby, my Prudence, my Pru-pru.

I will love you always.