Touch me when you feel relevant once more. Come into my heart when you are healed and play like a child again. With difficulty I let you go, and like a hard habit that breaks my back you raze my bones and then you float silently away. Snowing on Saturday and cold, this wilderness I am not sure I can take. Yet, a word similar to therefore or however, there exist a possibility that with the release of you as a disability I find my way.
No one needs to hear about burdens, there are too many heartaches we all own. Self and longing belong to the same god, a dogma that beholds the sinner to disbelief. Candles that are self lit die in just a little shade. I have to fashion new familiars that will help the exhausted want to wait. Please give me black liturgical entanglements of words that limp then dance on a minor score that’s played.
The word that brings ideas to the criminal, the word of nothing that creates the end of decay. No longer must adjectives describe, sounds they must utter, glory exalted in play. Is there a need to describe harmony, are not the sounds you want to read in the chaos of what you falsely believe you cannot see.
Is this private pathological conversation with my familiar leading others to language that will help them find their way? What psalm glides in silence across my paper when I choose not to obey. This writer bequeaths his freedom to a stranger he thought he released yesterday, a noise filled proverbial that diffuses and threatens to take my sanity away.
Touch me wanderer, you feel relevant once again, paint my crooked sky with confused signs of magic, so that I might write and charm a familiar that leads others to play.
A good writer has a familiar. In truth that familiar must be released from time to time to help the writer maintain his or her soul. It is known as writer’s block! The reunion with a writer’s familiar upon his or her time in purgatory is filled with dark magic and deeds, and it is in that reunion that the most wonderful words are released.-Daniel Swearingen 02/01/2014