Davey R JonesA Fantastic, Relentless Desire to Write

Mar
3rdTwo and the Same

Mom said I had an angel with us when I was born. Maybe she meant I was a handful. Like even heaven had to brace for me. But she never said that having an angel for companionship was a bad or scary thing. I always wondered what she meant in the half-smile of silence as she stared instead of answered. And I know that someday I’ll get to my other angel, the dark, sickled one that hasn’t come so much to keep my foot from dashing against a stone, not so much as that angel will come to take my foot and dash it against the stone: one last dark heartache stone-broken bone and then the plunge. So I’ve got two angels and I’m conflicted about which one means good and which one portends demise. Maybe, after all, it’s that second angel that does me justice and saves me. Maybe I was all wrong to think that the first one did me a kindness. But anyway… In between the visitation of two angels I’ve got two muses. And I succumb often to the temptation of describing them like a dichotomy of good and evil. But I only do so because I lose myself in the over-reliance on things like how each one feels: which one brings me comfort. Or which one rends me from sleep in the middle of the night and sets me howling like a madman’s aching. Because the first muse incites me like a sunrise. It boils [...]