Honeybees Released From Their Jar

My downstairs neighbor is losing her mind. I'm so much better when I look into your eyes. Some members of my family are camera shy and I crave the spotlight. You and I should go to Cuba. We'll bribe the immigration officials and they'll look the other way. It's supposed to be beautiful there. I feel like we'd be more beautiful there. Pristine coral reefs are the best reason for a trade embargo. Plus, you could help me escape the lady downstairs. She is seventy-five and her mother is still alive. She yells at her about her own pain and it all seems pretty miserable. Next to her window is an accumulating cesspool that gurgles through the night. The water is green and stagnant and I'm too lazy to tell the nearby residents about their problem. Besides that, it seems like my other next door neighbor's job. She's a nosy nobody who lives off of righteous judgement like it's fuel. She's a bored indignant. I say that even though I understand that we do party too loud over here sometimes and the things that come out of our mouths would sound ridiculous if you didn't know us too well. But disagreeing with our neighbors is genetic. My mom and dad always had problems with the other sides of the fences. Sometimes they'd even argue about fences. Sometimes it looked like the Jerry Springer show outdoors. Little kids yelling insults at adults and vice-versa. Families engaging in verbal warfare. Things would get so messy. Maybe that's why I want to meet you in Honolulu on your way back from the South Pacific. I've been desiring a warm island paradise for awhile now. Everything is contained and if you're close enough to the ocean, then you have no one to argue with, I think. You see, life has been up and down. I can't believe how strong the wind has to be to knock me off of my feet. I wonder if the weight of substances helps. I wonder if the muscle-building keeps me grounded. Sometimes it seems futile and I want to disappear down to the skinny artist I am. But that's only sometimes. I'm strong. You said my grip was claustrophobic and then addictive, and in my better moods I felt the same about you. Hank said he woke up and found he wasn't as emotionally available as he had thought he was the night before. My brother turned to me and said, "you like that little speech uh? Sounds like you." I identified with it, yes. Another hundred thousand assholes probably nodded as well. That's a conservative estimate and I'm a conservative optimist. Shoot for the sky with a strong sense of worry. The past carried a heavy stick. The black and blue bruises from unfelt drunken escapades are the least of our worries. It's the ones that happened because we impulsively chose them. It's the ones that happened outside of our control that make us sick with fear. It's that unseen force that scares the behavior. It's that thing we call karma or conscience. It's that limiting element that contrives the intentions. It's the bondage that must be broken if we are to have one moment of real freedom. I saw you in a dream, then I saw you on the train, and now you're not youthful, and neither am I. I wrote that based on a message sent from the future. If you're quiet enough, you can grab fragments from anywhere in time-eternal like they're fireflies. I just realized that.