Unlike Kerouac

The thing that makes me different from all of you is the vast inner life I have. I just thrive in this, by nature. The bigger and deeper this inner life grows, the less anyone of you will understand me. That’s okay. ~Jack Kerouac

Unlike Kerouac

unlike kerouac
when i go too deep
into myself
i wanna turn back
believing
at the end of the road
of too much living
on the inside
there's nothing
but a mystifying
bewitching
mesmerizing
house of mirrors

maybe
i'm more of a coward
than kerouac
but it seems to me
all the good stuff
the women
the cigarettes
the booze
the love
the songs
stories
and laughter
are out here
not
buried deep
inside
the bullshit
of my being

i turn away
from myself
cause i'm a coward
i suppose
reasoning
with myself
there's nothing
as good
deep down
inside of me
as being loved
by a woman
i love
or getting drunk
when i need
to get drunk
which only
and always
occur
out here
but never
inside
my house 
of eternal
and internal
reflections

there's nothing as good
deep down 
inside of me
nothing as good
reflected
inside of me
as sophia lauren
or edwige fenech
or lawler vs macdonald 2
or the fab 4 of leonard, hearns, hagler
and duran

there's nothing as good
deep down
inside of me
as venom's black metal
carver's cathederal
o'neil's journey into night
or schrader's character
of travis bickle

i reason 
to myself
there's nothing as good
inside of me
no matter where i look
as the necessarily
imperfect love
that only exists
out here
the only place
it's to be found
and experienced
before
taking it home
to be
understood

a glorious
yet imperfect
love
that's never 
gonna be found
let alone understood
hiding away from it
on the inside

going deep's
okay
for making the return
better
like all that shit
about distance
making the heart
grow fonder

irrationality
contrived confusion
nonsense
and the surreal
make for delightful
vacations
but quickly
grow as tiresome
as the corporeal
unless you fight 
against the boredom
of the inner life
with the same 
commitment and conviction
you've fought against
the boredom
of the outer life
by creating
the eternal
amusement
of your self-reflecting
house of mirrors

but i believe
the pleasures
of a flesh and blood woman
are better 
than any of the pleasures
of a woman
conjured
by the mind

i believe
beethoven's fifth
is better
than any idea
of a symphony
paranoid
is better
than any thought
about rock and roll
and midnight cowboy
is better
than any pontification
of what film
is

if nietzsche was around
it would be nice
to ask him
just how
going too deep
without ever coming back
worked out
but he probably
couldn't answer
since it turned him
into a catatonic
madman

nietzsche
wrote a lot of good stuff
that people still read
a lot of good stuff
that came
from dry humping his mind
maybe his soul
to bits
in hope of conjuring
the spirit within

poor neitzsche
gone insane
from his psychological
buggering
and his masturbatory
urbermen
of so far
false prophecy

nietzsche's 
perfect
superman
his seducer
instead of any women
necessarily flawed
as any real person
of flesh 
bone
emotion
or affection
will be

who knows
maybe
with a little more
tits and ass
and tenderness
other than the one
that gave him
the lues
nietzsche
might have thought
and written 
just as well
maybe even
better

seems a shame
not to
have tried
but maybe he did
and failed
which is why
instead of tits and ass
he concocted
the fairy tale
of the übermensch
to take their place

it's a gamble
deciding
how to live
but it seems
living too much
for the inner life
is an exhausting
pillow fight
the struggles
convenient distractions
that ultimately
lead
to nowhere

whereas
life
in between
the inner and outer
gives us real
fistfights
with real cuts
bruises
and welts
that we take home with us
to consider
on the inside
what went wrong
so that tomorrow
in another fight
on the outside
things
might go better
than moping around
on the inside
for the rest of our lives
the autoeroticism
of the mind
lying in bed
cockeyed and mad
fearful
of another beating
so instead
of fighting
we hide
in our wondering
ingloriously 
pontificating
until death
about what
went wrong
out there
in order to avoid
the confrontation
with the coward
exposed
on the outside
as well as the coward
deep
deep
deep
within

2 thoughts on “Unlike Kerouac

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