There are days I assume you may be on every street corner. There are days I’m secretly wishing you were seeing me walk by, run by, roll by, rev by.
There are days I act as if when every time you find yourself alone with your thoughts your mind will eventually drift to me. Memories, desires, regrets, admissions and resignation…
There are days that I go crazy when the room empties or the phone lies silent, wrestling with the maddening loneliness that attempts to become my definition.
There are days when all my percolating waves of bitter insanity tower over every downtown street and breaks upon every bar bolster in this city which will one day drown, cleanse, then resurrect me.
Those were days that owned me, drove me into the gym, into the bottle, into the arms of those who truly cared or had the good sense not to.
Those were days where the stripes and scars marked each moment and memory, running deep in me like the red and the love in my blood.
These are days that are drawn from an endless well of health and harmony, driven by my desire to question, relax, accept and venture.
This day is the day that I write with sparkling eyes, and with both laughter and darkness, I thank everyone who has plucked me from the fire I was burning in.