For Jeremiah

[J Hillenburg]

For Jeremiah




I see a dark figure that pursues you no matter what reward
you seize that seems to glitter like the an inevitable prize.
You glorified recklessness, a quality you could ill afford,
and when disaster befell you, you could not feign surprise.
Claiming to be haunted by decision made on your behalf
you staggered through life wounded by that wretched blow.
Now I see you struggling to evade the mad, drunken wrath
of demons that have blurred your focus and lain you low.

I sense the tears behind the mask of responsibility you wear,
the enduring persona that you present to your many friends.
You elevated evasion to an art and was less than prepared
to be saddled with cawing mouths who upon you depend.
Professing discontent with a world that maliciously lied,
and promised so much only to finally deliver ashes and dust.
I can sense those nameless fears to which you are allied,
those paralyzing emotions upon which you foolishly trust.

I feel your flailing rage at those promises that were betrayed,
those visions we shared that we never could seem to fulfill.
You gave voice to the dedicated when you were most afraid,
and believed happiness could somehow be conjured by will.
Announcing your intentions to no one, you have sought to hide
behind a liquid veil that has corrupted and crippled your mind.
Old friend, there is a chance still that our dreams may abide
the violence of a world that ruthlessly robs us of our time.

[lizzytysh]

The two lines work for me in several ways.

Old friend, there is a chance still that our dreams may abide
the violence of a world that ruthlessly robs us of our time.

I feel it every day.