July 2009

Tonight I am lonely; but it's for no other reason other than that I am alone. These days have come in waves of brutal self destruction and rabid introspection. It's all changing and I've got the past clenched tight under bruised knuckles. I've managed in the midst of this, however, to bore my fingers deep into the soil that holds me. I have blood and worms caked under my nails. And these days it's happened time and time again- you didn't know that about me, did you? Neither did I.

In just one week, I have managed to wear my threads bare- picking them strand for strand and stretching each one out for closer inspection. This process is discovery, though my body calls it pain. Pain is just a part of life anyway. To deny myself the sight of blood would keep me from discovering what moves beneath my skin.

What what have I found there? Broken vessels paint a map of reckless abandonment and genuine delight. If I seem interested, that's because I am. I have discovered the recipe for wild laughter and not giving a shit. Yes, I love you, but it is clear you don't get what I'm doing here. You tell me I am belligerent. I throw my head back to the storming morning in hysteria. You tell me I could never be- 'cause I don't understand. Baby, that's what practice is for. You've got worry in your head and it's triggered all my allergies. Honey, I can't stand it. We're so close I can feel your breath on my spine, yet our lives have intersected at a point of dementia. We're on different planes today. You push as I dig and I pull as you shove brashly. There is a bitterness I can't quite place. If your life makes you unhappy, find yourself a new one in the thrift store.

And we are not happy- that is clear. I push as you finish our promises before me. You pull as I run full speed towards the cliffs to watch the sunrise. Where are the cliffs, Darling?

There are no cliffs here. And you know the real problem has nothing to do with you, right? Of course you do- it might be what scares you the most. So why did you quit speaking up for the two of us and especially you? Your voice was once a bell. Somehow it has become a what? A mumble. What? And then you quit speaking all together.