Friday, 27 April 2012

We will have soap opera. Hold the tv.

               I know my silence or my inability to console you had me locked up, frozen in the moment, behind the glass, behind the rain hitting the glass... but no, truly i want you to know you are wrong to think I was somehow careless with it. With you and your feelings. With my own? Na, it ain't so.  I cared and its important to me... if you care about me you will not deny me that I am someone who would do all i could do in a situation falling apart, like you. Because you would, wouldn't you?

 

               You would. you would take it all the wrong way. you would focus your lens on the possibility we wouldnt be alright. you would see hear feel nothing nice. i would cover the other senses you missed. we almost fought over it sometimes, our senses. our lenses. our viewpoints could become physiological. not just witnessed. not just intellectual. not just verbal. we tore each other up sometimes. we hurt bad sometimes the next day. both of us.


konglomerate by k

             Hurt bad, but not just physically. Our hurt went back in from our bruised skin back into the mental swamp of burdensome negative creep land. Luckily there's no tv so you get spared the CSI reenactment and regurgitation of what i just described. Hold the tv may have sounded unfair. for a soap opera, i mean. But now you're glad they held the tv, aren't you? Just like mayonaisse could have poisoned all the girlscouts on that exceptionally hot day they hiked the mountain that was really a hill. five hours of mayonaisse in the sun is fit to kill, i mean. 

            Then both of us left crestfallen and silent. Too tired of not getting to do anything responsible. Too young to be too tired to capitalize nothing. Not even a vertical line over a dot. Yeah, its been learned. But if it's used, it's used to express upset or anger, not so much exhilaration unless the kids are faking exhilaration. It's not hard to do.

 

            We would be waiting then. Awaiting and waiting and anticipating and anti-participating. Anti-anyone who shoved into a bakesale and shoved them out through the in doors. Hopefully some burst of amnesty. This is where the ribbon of hope fluttered with offbeating hearts all a-murmer in the warmer months of the cold comfort climate changes between them and inbetween us. We would be warned, if we were lucky. We would be lucky if we understand emotional mind before emotional mind became a topic in group therapy. 

 

A real fucker. Who gets a good deal? Who really does? As you open your eyes, the way I saw things, well... you lost friends over it. The culture. The attitudes. The competition. The saying shit you dont really mean. The synchronized treading water. The saying and behaving just to hurt someone back because your hurt, right? We can see the scars when the sweat sticks them to your shirt. Or like if i said like i used to make new friends. no! More dead ends. 

bw konglomerate by k

This was cool. this was right. really painful mornings waking up. of course. lots of nightmares, you know. vivid ones. by the afternoon usually felt kinda even, balanced maybe, and the evenings were knock down drag outs with us. Live in a tight space like us, and see how you really feel. You really feel tight screwed. 

 

i was bad off....i was aware of it....i thought a long time about doing somethin' about it....then i tried to do something about it....i had to wait....i had to locate patience in my stressed tired self....it wasnt so hard....i figured things out...i had a working plan with clear choices...but of course i had to deal with the damn Department, and work something out cause i was bad off like i said. They told me about the process and then i stopped working. and then i got a little lost and confused in my mind...for days...and so much for my working relationship -- i got 'terminated'. A difficult word to receive. I cried alot. We cried alot alot alot that day. Well, it was me crying but i knew we were both so sad. 

 

But I would have to take things less as they were gone and never to be again, but more so as they were coming. Faster and faster and in my face. Like a hot desert wind blowing sand into pores. Kinda intimate and warm. Filling up some of that emptiness we shared. Maybe this would continue. Hopefully so. But maybe gone, gone, like a marathon.