Saturday, January 21, 2012
I sat in the corner. My knees wet. Wet from damp grass, or was I in a van? She sat on the bed or was she busy. Cruelty. Somehow always… managed to seep in. At the end. What does it matter what’s said, the feeling won’t change. No one’s having a change of heart. Even though you feel…tearing you apart. Breaking into pieces. It’s your face. You see? I love what I see, but not the way you are. But not the act. This is the way you made me. You made me into this. One way or another. It’s inevitable, don’t you see? Then. Really. Finding. A way to…GO. Make a change. Really? Inevitable, obligatory old story they’ve been telling for years. What holds us together? Something was once. Recapture what? Was it once? Endless recriminations. Self loathing at the last. Fitting into narrow spaces. Why bother? Why bother. Who are you? Because it’s the way you are. Way of the…species. What you have. What I give. What’s that smell? That stimulates the brain? What did I have? Why wasn’t it good enough? Was it? Good enough? What more could you want? To grow old and die? Our bodies together. Old and dying. Where’s the magic in that? Gone? Where is the magic? Smell. Smelling of death. Where’s the science in it? In the end. We’re all alone.
Posted by Chuckh at 10:37 AM