Читать книгу Treasure of the Mind - J. Michaels - Страница 7

I love Bob Dylan. Gracie can’t stand him but I think he’s a genius. His words are always popping into my head and there’s just something about that raspy voice that I really relate to. Bobby and I have grown up together and he’s the poet I always wished I could be. “I don’t give a damn about your dreams” he says in his latest, greatest classic. I love it as usual but damn Bob, this was one dream I cared a lot about, just a gunshot and a funeral too late.

My mind rambles a lot these days, from one pointless thought to another. I need something that turns my crank again. I need for one of those pointless thoughts to mean something again. I have the big office, a six-figure income, an impressive home, and a new beemer. And none of it means anything to me. The girls and Grace have been great and I truly love them. But even they can’t lift this heaviness that hangs over me, weighs me down, and maybe some day soon will devour me.

I guess it’s time to call Jimmy and see if he still grows that great weed. I need something to keep me from going where it hurts so much. Maybe a poker game with the boys will help. We can drink beer, maybe smoke some pot, and get crazy. I love those guys but I don’t know if I’ll be able to stomach their inevitable pity. No reason to pity me, I’m the one who blew it with Chris. I’m the one who passed by his childhood like he would be waiting for me when I finally decided to be there for him. Dreams be damned. They don’t wait for us while we waste our time chasing the buck, and the career, and the toys that we value so much.

Maybe I should consider going back to work. But then I’d have to deal with all the well-meaning sympathy that does nothing for me except remind me of what I’m trying to forget. At least I could get lost in the endless details, the useless meetings that will hush when I walk in. The problem is I just don’t care about all that anymore. I wish I could leave my skin and deaden my feelings. Maybe a new dream to replace the one I messed up or just something else to be more pissed off about than I am about the kid who killed my son.

Regret gnaws at me

Eats away my being

Let me escape this torture

Let me not be

Why must I choose

Between despair and hate

Shall I kill to save me

Will it salvage my soul

Will it tame the beast

Or destroy my hope

I know not where to turn

I have lost sight of love

Erase my mind and feelings

Ease my suffering heart

Lord, come save me

Before I fall apart