brothers in harms

My brother turns twenty tomorrow… ever been so acquainted with a room you could find your way through it in the dark? It’s sometimes scary to think he knows me that well. I’ve never written about him. He deserves a better writer. He cries never for himself but for the world that never summed up for him. The man I’ll always admire but I never want to be. To be cursed with a clear conscience is not something I’m not man enough to live up to. His conscience was so loud it suffocated me. Right and wrong so clearly cut. Leaving no space for selfish interpretation. I’ve always been a disappointment to him. Sometimes he hides it sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes I feel he’s tied down then again maybe I’m too blinded by my own mind. I still remember the day I opened the door to our room and found him crying as he sang “aerials” aloud. He’s as messed up as me but he has the class to not rave about it like I do. “The world might be messed up and fucked up but I’d rather be in it, I’d rather be in it” he sticks up for me, cries for me, fights for me, picks up after me but never dies on me. Hopes that someday I’ll be the man I want me to be. I love him. I love him and all the people stuck inside him. Anger, loyalty, hope, resolve, faith, fucked up hair, baby face, power, class, depth, dimples, love, care, intellect, sadist, chauvinist, romantic, stubborn. Throw in some rock music and some dirty underwear and poof you’ve got my brother. Do I not show him my love often enough? He told me once “the whole point of friends is that you get to take them for granted” love you broff couldn’t have asked for a better best friend. Happy birthday and fuck you muuuah

blind sight

So the drunken mind is free of such inhibitions that if you weren’t high then you’d be jealous. But then again do I really need alcohol to set me free?? The two questions in me arise thus and proceed to contradict each other… what is the right question to ask? Is it.why do I ever need the high? Or is it do I need to be bound by my inhibitions to blend within etiquette and normality? What do I care for answers and reason when I’m blinded by freedom itself! Defining myself is beyond puzzling. What term do you apply to matter less matter? Should I take solace in the coolness of being the ideal paradox or just cry like you would cause she never cried when you said goodbye? Not a tear for the man who represented the nothingness of everything. And in tears he shouts “you fools I am beyond you. Don’t I see words clearer, thoughts crystal and souls stripped? Am I not what you forgot to be? Do not mistake my plight for weakness! SUB QUESTION-BUT WAIT WHAT IF I WAS WRONG! What if I was fooling myself! But I don’t care now do I …I am elevated …maybe the black sheep was hated cause he begged to fucking differ.” Ah a finger for the lord the Adam the eve and the freaking fucking apple. I aint none the more wiser but a good cause good drink a good thought and a good word soothes the mind any day more than an invisible psyche will!