Archive for Jazz

Untitled, 4am

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on September 6, 2017 by ofherbsandaltars

So I’m sorry it’s so late at night

But there’s a lot of shit I just can’t hide,

Anymore.

My best friend just fucking died,

Everyone betrayed me,

But never Jazz,

Never, ever Jazz

 

He didn’t call me by the name I chose

He’d come up and lick my fucking nose

And bitch, my foundation is expensive

But nothing compared to you

Who I’ve lost, forever

 

I texted your phone yesterday,

I know it’s dumb, I’m know it’s stupid

But I wanted to reach your niece,

She might get it,

She’d rail at me, then speak to me

I hope.

 

I have to talk to strangers because friends are just too close

I don’t want to hear advice, I just need to talk

And talk and talk and talk

My attention jumps around like a fish on a hook

I’m not over the concussion

The whatever happened to me,

A scar still in my lip

 

I can’t help thinking, Jazz –

Last night, those chavs picked on me for wearing black

No mohawk that night, but still, they yelled

“Trick or treat!”

And I picked a fight, I asked the fat kid,

“You starting something?

You ready? Let’s go, bring it!

You wanna hit me, fucking bring it!

That kid, and his two mates, they pussied out, they walked away,

From one solo ‘girl’.

I walked ahead, they could’ve sucker punched me, I knew it,

But still, I didn’t care.

Who the fuck am I, picking fights?

If I was Jazz, our gay, Indian, goth Jazz,

I’d have been kicked to pieces.

 

I can talk a hard game

But in the end we’re all the same,

Just want to walk down a street,

Make friends with dogs,

Like Penny – she jumped up and licked my face

I adored her – so why?
Can’t we take a lesson from a freakin’ dog,

And just treat people with civility?

 

I’ve got three brothers.

Two of them vomited blood,

After they were battered by chavs for looking goth.

And goths are pussies, we all know it –

We wanna stay up late reading books with the Cure on,

Candles, incense burning, so silent, so perfect,

Not punching bags to Eye of the Tiger

 

I’ve lost my thread, lost my point,

Jazz is… Jazz is…

What?

 

On holiday, like usual.

He’s lying on a beach, or hiking over the hills,

Wrapped up in a sleeping bag at a festival

 

That’s where Jazz is.

He’s fine.

He’s coming home soon,

Because anything else is impossible.

 

I don’t understand.

 

No morgue, no funeral,

It’s so unreal.

 

Suicide, an overdose?

We don’t know,

They won’t let us know

 

But I’m back on junk, Jazz,

Whenever I can afford it,

And everything’s gone to shit.

 

Dude, you were the person I’d phone,

Late at night,

I want to phone you right now,

Just to see who answers,

It won’t be you, but someone?

Your niece, a teenager, honest and blunt,

Exactly who I need,

Who’ll talk to me, explain

Pain.

 

It’s nearly 4am, I can’t phone them now,

Can I?

I don’t know

Who can ever understand death?

 

I need more gear,

Need it here,

I stayed clear, for so long,

Because I thought I’d die

And then you did instead

After that, I ceased to care.

 

I shot up dope, for the first time in years, and it was beautiful,

Sublime, beyond…

 

I survived

It didn’t kill me.

2011, I’ve got you back,

Dope honeymoon, take two…

 

But I’ll never have Jazz

And do you see what I mean?

How my brain’s a useless spleen,

And I can’t keep a track, can’t even try to attack

Any subject?

My mind is a flying fish,

Leaping from the waters of logic

I can’t keep track

I can’t go back

Why would I pick a three against one fight,

While wearing a skirt that stops me kicking?

I like my nose, I don’t want it busted,

But I TAKE NO SHIT, not anymore

I’m not your slapped up ego-whore,

No more,

No more.

You can’t break me now

I’ll take it, I’ll fight, and I’ll lay it out,

For my brothers, for Jazz.

 

And then my brain turns in the water, slips free,

Becomes another part of me –

Was it a bad batch of junk, or just concussion,

When I got so sick,

Scar in my lip

My head hurts

I’m tired.

 

I miss you all

Gretchen, Granny B, Jazz, Ellie

Ellie. My daughter – the baby who never came at all

 

I can’t care, or I care too much

Jazz. Cannot. Be. Gone.

 

I can’t wrap my FUCKING head around it,

Jazz, gone? Forever?

 

Ellie…

Will she ever exist?

Will she ever be in me after all these stupid meds,

Do I even want a kid?

Will I ever not hate myself,

Want to slice myself out of my own body?

 

I’m done,

Mic drop

I’m through,

There’s nothing I could say to you

 

To make you understand.

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