Searchers

You are searching for yourself in the wasteland. In the dusty range among the blood soaked buttes and natives under powdered blankets. You are searching, a searcher, searching for yourself, for the eyes that were shot out while you lay in an unmarked grave, under sand and desert breath, fine and fiery. You look and when you see you shudder. You tear away the miles and the years, distances that can’t be measured and find THE OTHER resting beneath your skull like a stranger in your bed squirming up close to your reposed flesh. You are searching for yourself and here you are, a loathsome abomination that you wish to smite out of existence with a blazing barrel. Memories out of the wide blue vistas and rolling thunder clouds that seldom visit wash down over you, sweep you away in a torrent of rage and self hatred. You found it, you found what you were looking for and now you wish to smash it, destroy what you don’t understand, what you don’t know. What you don’t know. What you don’t wish to know… what you wish to forget so you shoot its eyes out, gouge your own eyes out with speeding fragments of lead so that you can forget… so that you can dream. You dream of a wasteland teeming with life. The quick little hare scampers from her den, the coyote snatches her up and carries her away… and you pursue them. You insist on prodding the wound, opening it wide, making it bleed until you remember that you wished to forget. A long wavy scalp dangling from a pole, it demands an us to exact our revenge on a them. Bodies flowing out of canyons and caverns, rivers and tee pees. Bodies wailing from under the brush. You are searching for yourself in the wasteland. In the dusty range among the blood soaked buttes and natives under powdered blankets. The ones who are of the wasteland, the very fabric of your confusion, they flicker like fire light, one moment familiar, the next moment strange. Strangely familiar forever these OTHERs. You remember the snow, cold and wet, hiding their tracks so that you could not find them, could not find the one that you seek. You are a searcher seeking after understanding of self. You have journeyed beyond, outside the cozy world of the comfortable and familiar. Dazed, you discover that you can never go back. You have lost your way. You are condemned to being them to yourself forever more. You are searching, a searcher, searching for yourself, for the eyes that were shot out while you lay in an unmarked grave, under sand and a desert breath, fine and fiery. Memories, revenge, a cup of coffee and a rocking chair…so that you can dream, strangely familiar forever.