Monday, March 30, 2009

All it cheezy eggs.

Conjunctivitis of the life? What? Digging useless pits in the backyard, trying like hell to bury all the wrong crap in my life?
Rambling about validation, and having the cable turned off.... fixing? Turn on the timer.....

Could I bear it?

Can I lay in the swing in the backyard all my life? Hiding in a tree in the woods? Can't find me? Look up. Look at the dove in the tree.... she's at the very top.

Cutting the tops off of carrots I planted in the garden? Mindlessly washing them off while the pot on the stove boils over. Barely noticing.

Staying captive in your house and the only outlet is what isn't true interaction, with only my white flag waving...... and consumes you? Constantly connected to your network? I have a big list of friends.... but truly, only 4. If you look closely, I am hiding between the dryer and washer in the bathroom, like the "ghost boy" from 3 Men and a Baby.......

Digging like an earthworm, feeding on the dirt, getting fat, rising to the top of the soil when it rains.....drowning when it pours.

Staring at the preacher, having the words pound at your heart, while singing my favorite hymn, the lump in your throat becomes too large so I can't sing.
Tears come out, the silent ones, not a sob in sight.

Then, someone asks me, are you alright? Well, no. I'm not. More tears, sobs pop out of my little mouth before you realize it's happening....
The pain in my belly starts pouring out like water from a pitcher.......

Tearing out the guts of the piano I love so much to make a sled, because you desire the wind in my hair, finally feeling the mind blowing orgasm you so desperately needed while trying the new position I thought I really wouldn't be into.... Ripping up books I adore, and things you have written because it feels like a facade.....throwing them in the air like a snowstorm.......

These are the things escaping right now. Even if you read this months from now, years, even.....

When life is different still, maybe a little more easier, down the road.....

You will still find me at my kitchen table, itching to fight.

I had a guy that came to buy dog food, he wanted the bottom bag.....
Ok. He wanted the 40 lb bag.
Still, ok. I walked around, picked up the other bags, obviously, struggling.
This man was 6 foot something, capable.
I am 115 lb, tiny, lifting, moving, (fine, it's just fine).....
He lets me move shit around, and I am coming unglued.
Then, he states, have you ever baled hay before?
Well, yes. I have.
You can tell, you moved those without any trouble.....
You stuck your knee underneath it, it was natural for you.
The gloves came off. My defenses weak.....
He said, I would have moved those for you, but, you took it in your own hands.


He left. He was nice.
He made me think.
People try to help me, and I resist.

I dig very deep, and you can only see my little eyeballs poking out of the ground.
And then , I bitch to myself, why can't anyone hear me?

Growing paranoia that someone will grab my feet as I go up the stairs.

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