drunken laptop in bar

Truth spoken softly
Louder than
Untruth, screamed from a roof top.

The feral kitten, finds refuge under the couch.

Recognizing your face
Truly for the first time.
Shaking hands, with a shadow.

A silent confession drew the space between us, to a close.
Grasping
Foreign language became mother tongue.

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Let’s make a list, where structure is forsaken
One written between the lines
Read by life in motion
Never slowing to press ink to paper
A storyline etched by action
Scroll makes a smoking recovery
From the speed at which we live (love)

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Writings from a dimly lit taphouse, trembling with laughter, emanating from a likely cast.
I felt like you’d known me from the moment I was conceived. Not in womb, but in world.

I know myself more with you – coincidental, or complimentary?

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Motivations as a symptom of psychology. A means to an end or beginning. They are often contradictory, seldom solitary, and almost always counterproductive.

I thought I knew myself, but I don‘t – not entirely. I’m not opposed to learning, I just have a habit of putting it off as for long as I can. Procrastination is one of my strengths. Inimical brawn which often leads to weak foundations, relationships, and products. You’re staring at me with that smug look of satisfaction. You’re the most attractive asshole I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. I digress because it’s easier for me to write about you, a comfortable distance between the subject and the self.

When I write about my pain I imagine myself in a closed room, cup to the drywall, drawing information through espionage rather than observation. It’s not to say it’s not my experience, just that I try always to feel from the outside rather than the inside. Looking for answers inspires a swell of anxiety, anticipation and fear. You know when you feel a lump in your chest, expanding until it’s hard to breathe. Your heart feels like beating fists against a cement wall. This is my state as I dissociate. I close the door, I shut you out, I shut down. I’m numb, with exception given to the tumour in my chest, nausea in my gut. It’s better than feeling too much. But what about the necessity of letting go? What about falling on your knees, unravelling, losing control, and feeling everything all at once and with such weight that rising from the earth seems like a an impossible feat.

~ by throatstuck on May 7, 2009.