In the scheme of things, you are forgiven. Because love is love. In life, not so much. Why are you such a fucking idiot? Such an imbecile. So strange, how you would allow fear and ignorance to rule you. To blind you of the holy before you. I’ve never understood, I never will. What life is that, so little. All the stories, all the excuses.
Ella and Louis is singing to me, A Fine Romance, and I marvel at the charm that alows Ella to rhyme ‘Aunts’ with ‘Chance’ and then ‘Romance’.
I felt the rage in me all the way home. I yelled in my car, windows closed, but still. Yelled at you, why? You’re making excuses for turning down life. Love, living. You make me bleed, just to wrestle free, and from what. My mere existence. You’ll hurt me, so I’ll let you go, but you don’t realise that I’m not the one keeping you here. Love is. And I’m not here because of you. You’re a fucking idiot. I’m here for love. Proudly a bleeding fool for love. But love’s not why I’m bleeding, you are. You stupid, stupid human.
And I can turn to whiskey, to wine, to writing and music, and what good will it do? I can turn on banjos, turn to Van Morrison, to Tom Waits, to Mark Lanegan, Lucinda, Tindersticks, and how will it help? i can write it out, like, this, I can drive for hours, cry. I’ll get through my frustration, through my sentimentality, through to anger. It’ll keep me. I can laugh at myself, cry a little, for love. For missed opportunities, for all things stupid in the world. Then look at the Super Moon tonight. Laugh, a short laugh. My dear, will you ever see?
They say, love makes the world go round, it’s a lie. Its’ love making. The act of love. I love, and in the scheme of things, thats enough, for both of us. In life, not so much.
