Sunday, January 29, 2012

I became a rambler... 1/1/12

I’d ask you what it feels like to be so damn apathetic but that would require you to have feelings in order to answer me.

At what point did you become a stranger in my bed and at what point did our bodies refuse to know each other?

Mine seeks for your warmth every night and at this point in the mornings as well but you refuse it like an icicle.

Did you finally realize I’m not the budding rose bud and did you finally realize my codependency?

I wished to hide it from you and I did a good job, I think. But you see it kept creeping up. I kept putting concealer on it, I kept telling it to shut the fuck up but it kept creeping up like the creases of an old woman’s wrinkles at the worst point.

When she wishes to hide her vulnerability
In the end no one can hide their vulnerability.

And so I hid it.
I covered up the sadness and the knowing and I tried to breathe. But my anxiety disorder prevented me from taking deep breaths from my diaphragm and as my world became smaller and smaller I realized what I had become

A psychological experiment
Lies lies lies

When the lights are off I feel you calling me but I never give you the opportunity to miss me
Perhaps that’s my mistake
Does she allow you to miss her?
Does she wait for you to be the one to call and do you go running to her when you don’t hear her voice or feel her sweet soft vapor on the nape of your neck?

See I can’t give you that opportunity because I’m so afraid you’ll run away against my peering presence

Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen and go ahead and tell everyone my world is dominated by you and hardly me anymore

You see you’ve made this world so simple and yet so complex. Now that I know what guides my air it sucks ass when I don’t get. No one said this would be eloquent. Love makes us stop being poets…

I feel fine, I feel like I could make it without you and then I see your sweetest sad eyes.
And then I see you hold my mother’s hand as she wakes up from the anesthesia of her cancer surgery.
Why would you lie about that baby?

You see, it would be much easier if I saw everything you did as full of lies.
It would be much easier if I could fit you into my anorexic psyche that counts its calories and its steps
It’s the ambiguity that always gets to me
It’s the feeling of not knowing
Is that that what love is?

See this is why I deeply do not believe in a god.
I’m not so secretly jealous of all those that are able to
All those that are able to place their blind faith into something they can’t see knowing to their core that things will be ok because they are operating according “to plan”

I never knew that shit.
When I let things happen according to plan dishes were broken, souls were robbed of childhood and children waited for the day….

Since then I made it my life’s mission to be my own God

And for the most part it’s worked.
Except for those searing nights when my maps and timelines don’t line up and the floor can’t be controlled by a small 125 composition of flesh and it is then that I am terrified

Because I don’t know what will work
I don’t know if your hand can reach me

And it is then that I wonder….
It’s been a while since I’ve wondered. It really has. Well maybe not so long…

The memory is still too fresh and despite my best efforts to run away, it keeps creeping up
Buddhists say that sometimes things keep repapering in you’re life because you haven’t learned the lesson from it.

I’m 24 and I’m already exhausted from the reappearance of mine.
The thought is there again. Would it be that bad if I did it?

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