Pretentious White-boy Musings

2001-09-01 - 5:25 p.m.

Well, it's been a while, but that just means I've got more grist saved up for the mill. My Brother's gone back to New York: bad developement, that. I miss him pretty terribly. I think the most powerful, or at least pervasive, memory I have from the last several years is this: my parents telling someone that me and Billy are about to be seperated for longer than ever before. This happened a lot, over the last 2 years, and every time, they were right. Which means that Billy and I are spending an increasing amount of our lives apart. It's a tough thought, although I know how necessary it is.

My Mom has just moved to California, she's driving across this land of ours as we speak (or as you read). Won't see her again for another 2 months. Less time than we spent apart while I was in college, but this time she's the one who's left. It's a very different feeling from this side: the one who leaves has a new life to occupy their time, they can move forward. The one who's left behind has nothing but a new nothingness to deal with. Odd thought, that too.

I'll leave off here with a poem I wrote about 3 years ago. It's not great, but I like some of the imagery. I'll probably rework it a bit, but I'd like the original to get a little air first.

Pocketwatch

And one day I will die.

It's funny how the pocketwatch ticks, tocks,

Takes my seconds and my heartbeats and

measures them in soft metallic clicks:

And iron reminder of the time...

My time falls in dark spaces.

It flows on me, seeps into my pours,

crannies out my cracks and crevices,

washing out the ashes and the dust.

And as I bathe in the moment,

I run, I bleed, and I grow small.