July 12th, 2003

lounge act

them bones

talking talking talking- analysing digesting consuming. thinking you know how to take in and then say and then do what's right what could be the best what could make sense what could possibly be helpful.

"dear c.
i was so sadden to hear of the passing of Willie...."


adults do these things, i suppose- send flowers, write out prayer cards, offer condolences.

nothing is helpful and everything sucks. your only child is dead and nothing anyone says is anything but prefunctory bullshit- talking heads going through the motions upon the landscape of your raging pain.

i try and fail- i just dont know what to do. im angry and sad but still all empty feeling within because i cant make what seems unreal- real and tangible and honest.

honest is too ugly appearing, especially in type. you died ' suddenly' in obit-ese. but white and black trash across the globe knows what that means- you were murdered, you killed yourself or you OD'd.

the past is so unkind and the future is no different. the slab robs us of things we never really had.

i'm buying a savings bond for your grandchild instead...i could blow off all humanity- i mean you all could go fuck yourselves as far as i am concerned because no one really cares about anyone else when it comes right down to it. really dont lie -you dont give a fuck -dont worry i know this and have known it for a long time - but sometimes it seems mothers are different- i know you cared about willie. i could never understand what its like to lose a child.

lets hope william jr has half a chance to not end up in the same place so soon.

im not so sure he has that much.