Keep Art Alive :: “Manic Depression” :: Art by Sarah Joncas
Down in the bottom of last week’s laundry,
still tangled and mis-matched,
I found half of a ticket stub from the early 90’s.
So faded, but I can still make out the date,
but not the title.
I know it was you, though,
I know it is some kind of sign.
I want to give you a festival of music and lights,
shake out the sky like an old beach blanket,
letting the stars just flake and fly away.
Then we could grab our grade school watercolor paints,
dug out of the bottom of purple backpacks.
and start again, with this world,
let’s start again with the sky.
I slip on that old black lace top, underneath,
we all have our secrets, we all have our scars.
You probably still smoke that same old brand of cigarettes,
still smell like rosemary and aftershave, tobacco and
I will have a beer please, hold the ashtray,
but not the coins for the jukebox.
Remember being wired out of our minds, you and I?
Climbing atop train tunnels and trading rings.
this one could be a wedding band, ours, yours,
smear the eyeliner across your face.
So pretty, Miss Kitty, so pretty,
yeah, I am sure those scratches will heal.
I am still finding remnants of future’s past,
paper thin memory as the clock keeps ticking, away.
Sometimes I write too much of love, of intimated desperation.
Like this heart is the only thing worth bleeding into
Wait is this his old jacket, your red dress, my
I want to shove it all in some winding river,
dunk my head in, baptize myself clean.
Write myself into someone more interesting, more coy,
witty and without.
Sew on a pair of hand me down wings ,
lose myself when the wind blows.
Or possibly just do nothing,
“When they get what they want,
they never want it again.”
Violet (live) :: Hole