A Drunkard's Guide to Heartache
“There is no space wider than that of grief,
there is no universe like that which bleeds.”
-Pablo Neruda
I can come to only one conclusion.
One that is pillared by starlight
and teaches me how to dance.
I can only dream of spaces that
dignify my sorrow with a view
of dawn, and sound out my loneliness
among all of yours. Let us leave
the world for a while. Turn our
minds to the span of mystery.
We are all children of feeling.
So hurt. Because what we require
is the opposite of space. A wall.
A tide of self. Whatever it is
you fill, know that you still hold.
Remember your family and breed.
Don’t waste your purpose.
And if you don’t have a purpose,
sit down and drink until
you reacquaint yourself with need.
That delicate ache, that beautiful
cliché. I want to hear you feel.
I want to dream with you and search
for our ghosts. I want desire
to keep me away from my desires.
So that I may suffer space. So that
my hands may know the reaching.
So that tomorrow I may still be
too alive to believe in emptiness.
Let me keep my days filled with
quarrel and deceit. This is what
I know, this gravity, this life, that
pulls all light and turns it into beating,
A rhythm, a form of art, my being.
--Rafael San Diego
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