i want to fill these walls with smoke and suffocate this heart-
leave the mess for someone else with some strength-
it could even be me, on another day.
but today, this body is merely a cave.
hollow and uncertain
claiming no treasure or beauty.
just a place for echoes and other methods of repetition.
careless with sharp edges and tired eyes.
useless,
save for some torturous methods of love
or limp, cold embraces.
and so visitors grow listless,
pace the contained border,
and quickly depart.
no flashes of eager bulbs
or curiosity of its intricacies
and flawed character.
just a nod of the head at the exit,
as though to mentally cross off another
duty from a list of chores.
excitement seems to be kept for the polished,
the new,
the complacent.
so, it will encase this breath
and attempt to survive the lonely tremors.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
intro
You can’t underestimate the intuition of a child. You just can’t. I mean, sure… you CAN. But you shouldn’t. Its one of the most crucial mistakes people can make. These children- these little freshly-exposed , emotionally uncensored creatures- are telling you how it is all the time. Whether your pompous ears are capable of receiving that message or not is entirely up to you. That’s is precisely why, when I stood in the bedroom of my eventual step-sisters (and destined ex-step-sisters) during our introductory playtime and stated ,
“you know, my dad’s going to cheat on your mother,“
the comment was quickly reported to their mother. She and my father, in turn, gathered all of us together in the living room to address the comment. They wanted to reassure her upset, naïve children; and to keep his children from spoiling the fresh affair. What they received in response was a few pair of rolling eyes, while the other sets of eyes twinkled with some foreign, dreamy hope of fairytale-endings. Needless to say, those twinkling eyes weren’t originating in any of the young girls with my father’s blood. I’m not sure if it was a lack of romantic comedies in my childhood, or if it was the fact that my mother and father had shared 6 divorces between themselves by the time this discussion occurred, but I had no interest in humoring another “uniting of hearts” or bullshit matrimony. While it would be grand and so precious if I was proven wrong, I was most definitely dead on. Hearts and families were swollen with emotion and broken. Foretold by a young girl not yet heartbroken or bitter from her own experiences, though I’d find my way there soon enough… with very little training needed.
“you know, my dad’s going to cheat on your mother,“
the comment was quickly reported to their mother. She and my father, in turn, gathered all of us together in the living room to address the comment. They wanted to reassure her upset, naïve children; and to keep his children from spoiling the fresh affair. What they received in response was a few pair of rolling eyes, while the other sets of eyes twinkled with some foreign, dreamy hope of fairytale-endings. Needless to say, those twinkling eyes weren’t originating in any of the young girls with my father’s blood. I’m not sure if it was a lack of romantic comedies in my childhood, or if it was the fact that my mother and father had shared 6 divorces between themselves by the time this discussion occurred, but I had no interest in humoring another “uniting of hearts” or bullshit matrimony. While it would be grand and so precious if I was proven wrong, I was most definitely dead on. Hearts and families were swollen with emotion and broken. Foretold by a young girl not yet heartbroken or bitter from her own experiences, though I’d find my way there soon enough… with very little training needed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
