In Some Joshua Tree Hotel

I ran it out and I ran it down.

And then suddenly there I stood.

just standing there on the edge teetering, looking out at the blurred images of interstate lines that faded out into bewilderment and pain.

I'd check my shadow from time to time. I watched it move here and there. Some back and forth kinda sway. It was like it was dancing. Psychosis and madness in some waltz of self-destruction.

It seemed that it separated, split into two. Jutting here and cutting there. The duality of indifference and forgotten lives.

One Shadow screaming

One Shadow numb.

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. Racing thoughts erasing dreams and the slow steady strum of a Gibson lodged somewhere in my mind. I took a swig and paced the floor.

The Jack was warm and steady. A familiar comfort far from home.

Everything was muddled, blank spaces and missing days.

How long had I been there? I was uncertain and unphased. I'd looked around the suite, there were bottles on the floor and unpacked luggage on the bed. I poured a shot and

I'd drank it down quick and hard. I needed to remember and I needed to be numb.

I thought I'd lost her near Atlanta. Doubtful words and half-assed lies. They tumbled in and struck my brain. I felt them as they hit.

One shot. Two shot.

Like brain matter splitting and twisting and turning inside. I didn't remember leaving, just the Angry Fuck and her eyes. Something deep and dark and seething settling in behind the hazel, pulling her back and away.

Tiny memories flickered in, like a flashback theater of white powder dreams.

Dionysus and the Devil's dance.

Snapshots from there and there and here

I'd found some drugstore cowboy down in Austin and we'd ripped a couple lines. He had a Gucci smile and Lucchese boots and he'd asked me for a ride

to some roadside motel on some highway somewhere. He'd invited me in and...

I'd stayed for the night

One night?

Two nights?

Like a fade to black. Drug salad and sex and...

And there was the guilt.

I'd thought about calling and did a line instead. I kept a steady flow 'til I hopped my flight.

And Wound up Here

In Some Joshua Tree Hotel, teetering on the edge

With burnt spoons and dirty hands,

To wipe clean my dirty soul.