Everything Louder Than Everything Else

I grew up to paradise by the dashboard light learning two out of three ain't bad at a time when I was giving my love to the wolves with the red roses. Those lyrics were my life. That sweating manic impossible energy also mine. I burned through four cassettes of it in my car singing as loud as I could with the windows down racing down gravel roads letting the world eat me dust.

Later in life, I would do anything for love knowing that objects in the rear view mirror appear closer, my wasted youth, because I didn't go into the frying pan to the fire just tip toed around lief's edges without leaping in. Now I know good girls go to heaven but bad girls go everywhere else.

The rhythm of a life, my life, many lives never to be forgotten especially not the words. Such poetry delivery in tsunamis of life-sucking passion that left a man larger than life panting on the floor covered in lace to sink spent into years of illness and depression.

I lived all that too, this time with a CD. Looking for love. The real thing. Asking, pleading. Can you make me some magic with your own two hands, can you build an emerald city with these grains of sand. More importantly...can you give me something I can take home?

I knew for sure you could hose me down with holy water it I got too hot...and too after a while you'd forget everything...a brief interlude, a midsummer's night fling....and you'll see that it's time to move on. I never did that. Never moved on from that music, those lyrics, that delicious frenzy. I never will. I won't do that.

Now, so many years have passed and yet I find myself wandering down the ancient stairway, taking the steps only one at a time, following my just my heart beat now, I'm at the room at the top. The end of the line. I used this music just like a bandage, for my body a wide open wound, I can hear it raising up in my back brain now...