Joy Division Days

It's a Joy Division morning. I don't know where it came from. That young man, Ian Curtis, forever young, never leaving us alone. I don't know where it came from, but he is swimming in my ears. Hard not to think about what he was, where he ended up, how far gone it all was. The hopelessness of genius, the frequency of that. The wife, the child, wailing, searching for daddy in dreams, all of us pining for more music. That is what there is, colossal, neverending, darkening corners, somehow warming us. We are left here, not knowing which is brighter. The loss of control, the isolation and the abattoir of thoughts, they couldn't sleep safely. Are we resting in peace, living or dead? Well, who can ever really know?