always, lack of sleep leads to an over active mind; sometimes, lack of sleep leads to stenopool:
i.
i try and try and try to forget. and progress is made. then the phone rings. and everything falls. the scaffolding crumbles beneath me. just once, could someone please hold the ladder steady for a minute?
ii.
i hate your apparent power over me. i want a king with a wise heart, not an iron fist.
eventually, it will die. it will be a long and slow process, but, in the end, it will meet it's demise. it will shriek. attempt to right itself. try to get back on its feet. it will tremor in pain and fight the inevitable. it will slowly crawl across the ground. whimpering. leaving a trail behind it. a trail leading back to the initial scene. a place where no such thing was imagined. i'll pick it up with a worried look on my face. a face that shows how sorry i am and how much i miss its original splendor. i'll put it in a small cardboard box and carry it home with me. leave the box out in the garage. and, everyday, bring it food and water. nurture it. listen to it scrape against the sides in pain. fighting the quietus. i'll lose sleep over the sound. let the scratches change my dreams. watch as it turns more and more pale with the passing days. listen to its lungs quiver. the rattles of entropy. the last moans and whimpers. and then finally i'll block it out. let nature take its course. find solace and distraction elsewhere. and then she will be gone. eventually, it will die. it may take a long time, but. eventually. it will. die.
i feel a patient, strong, stiffling melancholy slowly working its fingers around my throat. why didn't i ever take a self defense class?
i gave her chicago and an ugly doll. she put up with me for a week and then gave me silence. if only i could stop caring. or get some words. like the end. strangely, hope endures in a pessimist's mind. what happened?
she's leaving tomorrow. right now she's entombed in a blanket fort in my living room. sheltered from the outside. she cried a little. and all i could do was hold her hand. it was as much for me as for her. and i thought, maybe if i don't let go then time will stop. if only such things were possible.
he's watching everything that helped make him here leave, disappear. and he's happy for them. but he can't help but feel a little empty inside. is he still the same when they are gone? when the scaffold takes it self apart and departs? and how much longer can running in place on the corner last? when will the signal change? walk. maybe he just needs to go frogger and make a dash for it. maybe he has to get hit by a few semi's. even if they do hurt. a lot.
peace of mind can be found in simple tasks; like organizing a cd collection or cleaning one's room. unfortunately, these small pleasures cannot last long enough to eclipse the sun.
