Friday September 07, 2012

 

 

a bomb upon the ceiling, she said...your disdain in my mouth i said. we were never a satisfied equation. i was the bomb, i was not an improving thing. she was a disproving thing. the ceiling is still the same sad place, above all of us. i no longer want to be saved, done with wanting. i will gamble with what comes to breathe the same hello as me, as i. i have been on paynomind for so long. i no longer try. i got the message. i don't want to reconfigure my path just to arrive at the same plane of frustration. i am not waiting for you. silly enough: i am waiting for me. i flower. don't think that i do not. i am not brave nor waving banners, no manifesto here. certainly no womanifesto. where i laid my head once is no longer available, my comfort is atomised. i hide my giveashit behind disobriety. my arms no longer hold anything worthwhile, my hands are dumb with ghosted breasts, mocking blindly curves that they used to understand as kind. i wanted to be somebody's honey and now i am my own vinegar. i will unsimply relearn again what it is to be single. i need to change from the wastrel i am now into something other. maybe what i was before i met you. maybe i need to change what i wanted to be. maybe i will start becoming again. i have this itching feeling that life should be about meeting goals, about being kinda happy. i cannot remember the last time i had a genuine smile on my face for more than fifteen minutes. it used to be i was happiest when i forgot my ex but now i am happiest when i forget me. you seemed to be a pathway away from what ailed me. for a while you were just that. then you became what ailed me. i spend my time in the pool drinking and listening to billie holiday, sometimes crying. i should just get over it, yeah i should. i foolishly stayed in the bowling league to keep us proximitous but i know now that was silly. no amount of you seeing me is going to change what was wrong between us. no leap on your part nor miracle on mine will make things kosher, palatable, forgiven. my god the vinegar i still have in me towards you. in the songs the lover usually comes back. it doesn't mention the irreconcilable things. the broken trust, the nights since parting weeping your aches out, the lowest esteem. i will stuff it all down with more disdain and bourbon and bad beer and sad songs. my triggers these days are many and close together. you never told me the disequation that finally ended us, never told me the small paragraph of what went wrong. though it was better left unsaid, i wanted a rosetta stone for out demise, i wanted to not be dumb numbed on a random friday at 5:37 pm in my swimming pool. my tears will be chlorinated. i may have the cleanest asshole in the world but my head is nowhere near being right. i am tangled up in blues. i am concentrated regret. this will be the saddest thing i will write. i simply cannot keep up this level of oh no. it affects the dogs when i sleep in late, it affects the cats when i hardly pet them any more. and my friends seem to be becoming more few, further between. i don't demand nor command them to be there for me but fuck it would be nice if they were around to notice, to comfort with beer and stupid jokes. this shows me that i need to rely more on myself, but that sounds like such a godawful far away thing. something i cannot now comprehend. what good has come from ever knowing you? i am not being annihilation man here, i am just trying to figure out the capacity of the heart to regrow after an attack. whether to bother to try again or whether to follow the tombstone words of bukowski. if i were to be good with the words then maybe i would care not one fuck about being good with the womens. my words were what used to sustain me, but not for along time. in the pouring rain in a yogurt shop across from city lights you fell asleep on me.