and life is very strange.
How to make sense of experience
that shoots in from all sides?
I feel like a foreigner in my own world
and this is my curse - my strength.
These people lost and beautiful
barbarians, and I one of them.
Split from a monkey and a godhead,
the caresses of sex and love and booze,
both a pathogen and a salve,
I blunder through wanderings
and plunder many wonderings.
But don't wait on me if you're waiting,
and don't look to a halo, or a sign of beauty:
you'll not find it above or in or around my head.
For I find my beauty in you.
Don't you ever go hurting yourself.
And she is beautiful, too, in a different way.
But navigating this pain: that's the thing.
That's why I came here. Put here
on this planet, by sheer forces acting through chance
with the blusterings of greater faith and truth,
I must wrestle with the marrow of the creation I am,
eventually coming to terms with it.
And all the while, all I have to grace my life is you.
And her. And friends. The many muses I find,
they each a me, I a them.
We are all the same when it comes to it,
but it's the differences that count:
comparisons and contrasts; cool jets
and hot blasts. I recently thought
of myself as iron filings, and you as a magnet
to straighten out all the confusion that's in me.
But I just need you near me, until I find that thing,
until I'm done with waiting.
I'm not going anywhere soon, so don't go either.
Hold my hand - but hold his, too.
But know that I'll be the one to guide you.
Just look to me when you're unsure
'cause I'm sure that I'm not, either.
But I'll guide you through the ether
and you can guide me through the maze.
Just don't lose me: remember my face.
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