Isabella

moore08-R2-E242

December 11th -ish

When writing things that are going to be “published” that is to say, broadcast for public consumption I’m sometimes distracted by thoughts of…huh? Never mind.It’s the holidays. This year seems particularly “holiday-ee” to me. I mean this in the best way possible which is saying a lot because this is a time of year that has the potential to go oh-so-poorly in a sad and sulky “holiday-ee” way.  I see folks wanting to look on the bright side, if for no good reason than a change of pace. Times have been tough but Santa Claus is coming to town. The reason I can tell is that someone brought a particularly nice bottle of wine to a party filled with people he didn’t even know. I’m gay. As in stupid-Backwards-Illiterate-Shameful-Shameless-Tongue tied. Literal. Shameless. Delicate. Contriving. Jealous. Selfish. Mean. Vindictive. Ruthless. Old. Ugly. Egotistical. Bitter. Cancer ridden. Dying. Ungrateful. Pig headed. Unfeeling. Angry. Dillusional. Addict. Vain. Faithless. Disloyal. Repugnant. Evil. Bad. Wrong. Insane. Sinful.But satan has lived in stronger men. And jesus has lived in me. You cannot tell by my violent tone. When I walk I walk alone. A thousand steps into a crooked sky. A parlor for your house of pain. A desperate call in a pouring rain. You weren’t the one. A noose. A neck. A shattered clock. The jokes on you. There’s no way out. There’s no way in. And stop. And let’s begin again. I didn’t come to tell the truth. First a word of mental chatter. Inconsistent. Aged. Failure. Sad sack. Looser. Nutcase. Hopeful offender. Hopeless offender.

Belly laughs and chocolate cake
Pray the lord her soul to take
Singing to the radio
Songs of things she couldn’t know
Helpless hopes
And colored walls
Daddy cooks
And mommy calls
Isabella Isabella
Isabella Isabella
Belly laughs and chocolate dreams
For the love of everything
Singing to the radio
Songs of things she couldn’t know
Helpless hopes
And colored walls
Daddy cooks
And mommy calls
Isabella Isabella
Isabella Isabella