…the sunlight burns my skin. This darkened room is bright with noise and smells. I can catch the scent of ecstasy every time I lower my head to my pillow. Even if I turn my head left and look right out the window, I no longer feel as though there is a world outside. I’ve lost touch.
Arrrrgh! I want to be touched! My whole life I spent believing in Karma, the golden rule, all that shit. Do on to others and what not. I have helped old people cross the street. I gave money to the poor. And the crème’ de la crème’, I took a fucking chance on you.
Oh, with your emerald eyes that cried long after the tears have dried. Your fantastic hair and your mango smell. I would just sit and try to sense what you would need next. I was very proactive in all this. Your only proactive stance was too leave me.
I’d call you a bitch but even the dog is still here. I just wanted to be able to turn to you at any given time, and ask you to hand me the paper. Or watch T.V., as I gently rubbed the back of your head. Instead I torture myself on my hours off of work. The golden rule being forgotten now, because I can’t do this onto others. I’ll get fucking arrested.
So now as I sit in this darkened space, reading to the light of the fire that keeps raging. I let my thoughts wander in to the caverns of my mind. I let my situation define me. I hate. It takes so much energy to hate. Baby? Do you hear me? I’m tired from hating you. Maybe if I work out, I’ll bring a new bitterness to my vinegar. A new life to my rage.
No comments:
Post a Comment