For L.

10 Jan

———

“in a real dark night of the soul it is always three o’clock in the morning, day after day”

– F. Scott Fitzgerald

———

For L.

 

I will not try to shrink you

I want you to get there on your own

and if one day, off your pills

you might go mad

I will not put you in a home

you are in the enviable position of having cracked prior to failing

you are young and beautiful and damned to live as such

but do not worry much

because the life ahead will seem quite very short when ending

and when you’re 49 a decade quickly

I’ll still be pale and handsome

with flowers picked from your family garden

by my hands of ardent vengeance

that plead with ink for ascetic immolation

phony (but pretty) as a rubber check

when really we want the payment in the mail

and cash on hand

not struggling youth

but, both of us, two charming writers

becoming ex-pats somewhere overseas

garrulous and drunk in the night of no Invictus

no night that covers one

but covers both

and I will raise you out of it

even if I have to continue living through it

just to show you something new

a place to find us both, in

all the iridescence of the beginning of the world

 

(with thanks to Scott, Zelda and William)

——–

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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings


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