Search and Destroy

I’m still looking for it
I can’t find it
I’m punching the walls seeing if it’s hiding in the holes I make
I walk streets looking for it
Still not sure even what it is
what shape it takes
what it looks like
all I know is that not knowing is slowly ruining me
the knowledge that I don’t know
more powerful than anything
10 cigarettes end to end and no answers
I can’t find it
I’m out of the groove and anywhere I drop the needle
all I get is static
back talking static that has no answers
not even questions
I’m prowling the walls
like a speed addict looking for those three pills he hid behind the bookshelf
but there’s nothing there
there’s nothing there
there’s nothing down that alley
there’s nothing in that book
there’s nothing on this record
and still I search
looking and seeking and self-destructing
like a poisoned man seeking an antidote
like a sick person seeking a doctor in a sea of useless faces
and all of the people that I talk to
they don’t have it
and they say as much when I talk to them
no answers
no questions
no tips
no tricks
so I search on alone
and a rage of lack of discovery cripples my breath
makes every exhale a rasp of failure
because I can’t find it
and the words I write and put on the page
seem to obscure rather than reveal
and I am lost in my own thoughts
written and unwritten
because it might be hiding in there
but my trawling reveals nothing
and the waters remain murky
polluted with sharks that eat ever small trace like remainder
of what it could be
it’s not with you
it’s not with her
it’s not with them
it’s not in this café
it’s not in this bookstore
it’s not in this record store
it’s not in this restaurant
and I grow hungry because I know that the answer isn’t going to be in anything I eat
so I press on lean and frail
knowing that only what it is
is going to dig me out of this rut
lost like a ship without a sail in turbulent waters of self-made waves
it’s probably not at the liquor store
but I’m not going to check
it’s not in the bottom of this cup of coffee
it’s not in the other pot I put on to see if it’s in other cups of coffee
it’s not among your sheets
it’s not among the trees of this park
it’s not on impromptu flights to London that I don’t take
it better not be at work
because god knows how awful of an answer that would be
and I’ve been looking there for four years
and seen nothing
but a paycheck
and it’s not in the fine print at the bottom of that
it’s not in the letters I write to friends
it’s not in harbor
it’s not in the rain
the sunshine
the overcast skies
the snow flurries
it’s not in the season
it’s not in the time of day
it’s not in my sleep schedule
and no answer comes from sleeping well or sleeping poorly.

So where the fuck is it?

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