re: Road River and Rail
Maybe there's something to be said for sweatpants and make-up. For a fabulous hair day spent inside, or covered with a hat.
I was supposed to stop smoking in the house today, and I haven't yet. I'll tell myself to stop when the sun comes up, even if it doesn't shine.
I'm exhausted. Something is keeping me awake, the light bulb in the hall is blinking, my house has become cold.
I'll keep thinking it's time to go, but when it's time I'll falter. I'll keep thinking the more times I start over, the better I'll be at it, but in this case practice does not make perfect. I'll keep thinking I'm better than this, but I'll keep sinking.
Some things are better not to question, but I don't know what they are. I feel like you feel, and I didn't yesterday at this same time. Yesterday I laughed at how complicated my life has become, in the same second I canceled everything.
I'm having deja vu. I've written this before, in the parallel universe where you and I work, where I am the you in everything. I remember being fired as I wrote this, and I know I want it so badly I can taste the desperation in that statement. It's passive aggressive, and the way I get out of everything. Burn all of the bridges so you can't turn around. Fuck up everything so you can't go back. Have no back up plan so can only go forward.
I've been walking the same road for over a year, and that goddamn road goes straight from California into Montana.
I don't know what you want, because I can't imagine anyone wanting me. You can't imagine being happy while you're being torn apart. Smiling in mourning, yellow to a funeral for something that's been finished. I want to work this out, and you're dead, and I can have no closure because you can't talk. Someone upped the lights before the movie was over, I did not get what I paid for. And I paid a high price for everything, nothing about you was easy with clothes on, I brought it on myself with those platform shoes that made me taller than you. Damn me for having the same light behind my eyes. Damn me that no amount of pain can put it out.
I got you out so you could have her, and you fucked me. Left me crying on a door step, drinking alone, like everyone before you. The truth will set you free, and that's all that can come out of my mouth.
I thought you were it. I thought you were the answer to all of my questions, but while I understand things a little better than before, I have more questions that need to be answered by more people. I want to see her and know that there's some broken piece in her too. I want you to go on hurting people, so I'm not so alone in this. She got her freedom, she got you, I got nothing but letters that mean less than that. You page her for lunch, like you did me. You send her emails at work, like you did me. You whisper in her ear the same things, like you did me. I hope that on December 17th, you tell her how beautiful she is while you're standing outside. I hope she cries. I hope that on her way home, to your home, she loses a glove. I hope that someday you have to wonder if she's coming back.
I want you to wake up at 4 in the morning on December 18th and remember what you did on that day three years ago. I want the smell of my cigarettes, the taste of my mouth, the feel of my hands to slap you in the face. I want her to ask you what's wrong, and then I want you to tell her about me.
When the day comes that I can remember again because I can feel something else again, I want you to know.
When the day comes that I can see beyond my feet, and do what I say, when I can be smart enough, and pretty enough, and enough, I want you to know. Because I want you to know that you've replaced my laugh with something no one will notice, you've replaced my love with a cheaper model, you've replaced my walk with something lazy, you've replaced my fun with seriousness and you don't laugh in bed anymore.
I'm walking around asking. Every face I look into has an answer, and I don't know which is the right one.
So embarrassed, I'm not sure
Everything is blue outside.