stockpile

I’d tell you more if I knew. More. If I had an idea what it was you were looking for me to say. I think I do, know, and then I say it and I know, almost as soon as it comes out of my mouth, that it’s wrong. And there’s no way I can ever take it back. And maybe I mean it, really mean it, shit, I know I do, but I still know I’ve made a huge mistake.
I remember reading Sam Shepard’s ‘Killer’s Head’ years ago and for some reason I thought of it last night. Like most of Sam’s stuff it seems to make no sense a lot of the time but then, others make all the sense in the world. There are a lot of random thoughts in ‘Killer’s Head’ as the end draws near like a nervous energy being expelled. A line that has stuck with me for years from Sam’s ‘True West’ is, “there’s gonna be a general lack of toast in the neighbourhood this morning” gonna or going or I remember it like that.
I think of you sometimes as well, like that, like a nervous energy being expelled. Sometimes when I speak to you it’s like I’m all jacked up on caffeine and can’t seem to get the words out fast enough. I used to have a little dog that shook, seemingly, uncontrollably after it ate a meal. Like it couldn’t shed the food and the excess had to be whittled away somehow. I know how my hands feel when I’m with you or when I see you or when I hear your voice. And I’m ok with it, I really am. Maybe you know it, maybe you don’t. Years ago I would have said you couldn’t have seen it but I knew you could or at least I thought so.
I wrote you things you never did ever see. Or will see. I can’t show you. My skin isn’t thick enough for the result of that, or what the result may be. I may, one day, show you these things; hopefully it won’t be too late.
I want to tell you things. Things that have been bouncing around inside my head seemingly forever.
We’ll see. You’re special to me and you know it. I can’t live without you. And I won’t.