Hello, I’m Griffin.
And I have a problem. I need to tell you that there ARE NO ROCKS AT THE BOTTOM.
Stop saying that.
Down here it’s just crushed up cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon and the cracked pieces of the pride of every person who didn’t quite make it to the toilet.
We puked all over ourselves.
You can’t imagine the faces down here. A theater buff might tell ya that before big screen and tiered seating actors wore masks so that the audience could properly identify the emotion they were portraying. big ol’ grin or droopy frown.
Life’s only that black and white on a stage, though, there’s no mask for “Jesus Christ I really shouldn’t have another /beer please, barkeep.”
But there is a mask for “everything’s fine.”
It’s called bravado.
You’ve seen it on me.
I wore it for months while I soaked my whole existence in spiced rum kerosene and burned down all the “could have had,” should have done,” and “would if I had another chance.” Bacchus hath drowned more men than Neptune
But the masks are up here, too.
Your canary diamond masquerade faces are no different. They just look a whole lot prettier. When you’re not neck deep in a wine bottle you have the time to get the details right. I’m especially fond of your mask that says “I’m winning.” Shit looks like it was carved by Michelangelo
I can’t blame you for hiding, though; it’s hard to be human sometimes. Do you see what people are putting out? My sidewalk is all hellpit eyes glaring out of knifeblade scowls like I owe them something. It’s horrifying.
That’s the world we live in. We’re out to get one another. Like maybe if we get our bootpoint into some down and out ribcage the bills will go away, Like if we get a harsh word into someone’s kidneys our heartbreak will roll up and disappear. We got nasty. No wonder we apologize for going near one another in a hallway. Who knows what we could do! Relax; let’s be human together;
Eye contact avoidance helmets, personal space riot shields and glassmeek bulwarks of “I’m sorry,” “Excuse me,” and “My Bad,”
We’re all Just… sundust, just, thornless roses, just, paperskin over filigree veins armored in thinweave linen.
Do we have to be this scary? Do we have to be this scared? We’re ALL fragile. So let’s not fight; We could be in this together. Take the guise off, guys. Let me see your faces.