Sunday, February 6, 2011

The Last Holiday Between Lives

it just occurred to me that we're gonna spend the holidays together. and i'm not quite sure what to make of it. i'm always for signs and symbols , but you punched me in the face and i just walked away. first i fucking spit the blood right in yer face. no i'm telling the story differently. it was at your shoes, and i missed. good enough for me because you probably would have beat the shit out of me if i did what i wanted.

when i was growing up i always said to myself that i wouldn't let anyone get the best of me. of course years later i did. i was carved out, and i know you took all the good. or whatever it was that let me function. i resembled a normal person, and you might have seen through it, but maybe then you should have backed off and let me have it.

and god you sound silly when you're bashing my choices. i look at you and i know not to get angry, i didn't make you and i can't change you. where does that leave me? i'm being pushed out of the smallest social circle, the most desperate club. fuck it. i'll give up, and give it some time.

i just know that when i went in for seconds, you smiled. it was wide and bright. and for nearly an instant i had the world. for all the other instants when you rejected me dissipated. but the rejection staved off the the merriment.
i about gave up on life right then. i wanted to go to the bar, order a whiskey and coke, and eventually order 3 more.

stay there to closing being brigaded by whispers representing the past.

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