July

Still tied and bound to a broken dream am I

The guy who once thought he had it all

The fall was fast and hard

Still distracted by the impact of the crash that landed me head-first in the ashen remnants of false joy

Toyed with by his bastard ass way too many times

The sinister truth of his shadowy past

A walk-in who traded places with an invalid

Contract signed in blood in agreement to inhabit his fragile shell

All of this singing and dancing was orchestrated just so that one day the chance would become likely for him to make my entire existence flash before my very eyes

My desperation to become one with a man who is worthy sent up to the Lord in tearful prayer

So, his chance came in the form of a funnel cloud

Spinning

Whirling

Touching down upon me from out of the black, not the blue

Devouring all of the flora and fauna for many miles around me in all four cardinal directions

Leaving me here to wait alone in June

Shackled to the tiny single bed we had shared until the end of May

Lost in a Mary Poppins cartoon town because I was naive enough to dive into the little chalk drawing that he created upon my sidewalk

Typical

Whimsical

Stereotypically gay

The January air became hot and steamy

I remember feeling that feeling that I feel every year that rolls in upon the monsoons of July

Now I see why

This year my estimation is that it will be sweltering but fragrant

I can see the beads of perspiration glistening upon the temptations of the flesh already

I feel myself panting

I hear the wolves howling

I begin already the manifestation of the primal thunder I shall create with as many of their beastly asses as I can possibly muster

Cluster-fucked by the heat of July

My visions come before I scry

Each July seems to be more enchanted as the years fly by faster in their transgression through the concept of linear time

The patterns within the rotation essentially remain the same yet, the rules of the game change conveniently and annually

The gradual re-arrangement of the atmosphere riding upon the tailwinds left behind by falling stars

The rains of July were once torrential and tantamount to hurricanes

Now,  they are like a speck

A spot

A few drops that dry before they roll off my brow

Take a bow, Jason

The show is over....

5/5/2010