Ashes to Ashes and Lust to Dust
Judging by all the smoke up in this joint,
I think it’s safe to say
that we’ve shot gunned our relationship
straight into the bottom of this ashtray.
It’s as if we didn’t see this day coming or going
or coming apart at its seams
until it was going going gone,
like that 2001 Pop Odyssey Celebrity NSync song,
that is you ask me,
was all kinds of wrong.
It was as if somewhere along all the lines
we fell off the rails,
but only to bump back up again
because our addiction to each other
couldn’t keep us apart.
It was as if part of you
took part in me,
for the most part
part and parceling
the reason why we kept partying
to avoid parting each other’s company.
It was as if we
travelled back to the 70s
in search of soul searching,
in search of free love,
free peace,
in search of releasing ourselves from
any responsibility of ever committing to each other;
like free and fake hippy hypocrisy-
all-is-fair-in-love-and-war-
and easy breezy beautiful is:
Bullshit,
because we deserved more.
we deserved
more than the liberties we weren’t free to take,
more than the love we weren’t free to make,
more than the chronic “oh shit”
in the wake of every last night’s love affair,
as we’d lay limb-locked and lost,
languished as prisoners of our own war,
as we’d lay atop the bed of nails
in which we’d nail each other
and nail each other
to the cross that we’d both bear;
as we’d lay bare skin –
rolled in between bedsheets
bedsheets that absorbed the blood
we spilled from each other’s flesh,
our own fingernails etching zigzags
along the lengths of our backs;
as we’d lay back,
like D.O. Double G,
packing bubonic chronic
into the cracked bowl of our relationship
sparking it
pulling it up the lengths of our necks,
letting it collect in the depths of our throats
and just when we’d be on the verge of taking the
toke
and talking the talk about what was going on
between us
you’d pull the choke
and let every last bit of hope hang over our heads
like a cloud of smoke that never settled.
It was as if you never wanted me,
but wanted me to want you
so that you would get what you wanted
whenever you wanted it;
as if you thought that I would never think
that that’s what you were thinking;
But thinking back on it now,
we never had a chance in hell because
there’s only so much one can take,
only so much compromise one can make,
only so much shit one can shrug off, shake and swallow
before their insides become a wasteland;
only a matter of time
’til that waste of time turns septic,
’till each grain of toxic resentment
can no longer filter through the hourglass of one’s patience;
that no matter which way you put the thing down,
flip it or reverse it,
there’s no turning it around, bright eyes –
So this time,
I’m drawing the line,
’cause every time I trusted you with the chalk-
you snorted it;
and I’ve papered over our cracks so many times
that my fingertips are turning black from how old your news is.
Your dreadheaded-tattooed Tibetan flag pumped up kick bullshit
I’m far from namaste
over this GaGa love game
I’m rising from the flame,
like a phoenix
born from this ashtray.
so judging by all the smoke up in this joint,
I suggest we call a ceasefire
because we’ve shotgunned love
straight into a full blown war
and there’s so many empty bullet shells lying on the floor
that I don’t know how I made it out alive
But I do know
that sometimes,
the best way to say goodbye
is to say nothing-
blow it all sky-high
and just live
and let all the rest of it
die.
* V’s poem starts at 33:55 of the video
