August 8, 2010

Ellipses

Piercing noise invades...dream about wandering amid tall buildings and a soup kitchen and bad smells...reality, blurry as always, creeps in through lidded eyes, partially stuck together...I see perfectly in my dreams, 20/20 vision...I have a small sense of being denied something when I awake from a dream.

Shoulder throbs...slept on it wrong again...ignoring it as I push myself up to a sitting position...eyes closed again because they know they aren't needed...knee cracking as it finds the floor…willing myself toward the piercing noise to choke silence from it.

Click...the noise stops and the lids again arise slightly to verify what feels like an impossibility...being this weary and having slept that long...perhaps time moves faster when we dream...the only thing we know of time is how to mark it's passing consciously...if it flows, like water, like a river, then it cannot be constant and it can form branches…a second me does these same things and thinks these same thoughts alongside me, but not quite.

Reminding myself not to watch certain movies late at night...fingers fumbling on top of the laptop to locate my real eyes...my shoulder still aches...moving it around in the socket...making a muted clicking noise like tumblers on a combination lock...I find my vision and ignore the light switch...it's still summer, though it's a softer glow that curls around the edges of the window.

Sudden urge to piss hits me...wondering where that was moments ago as my cock is clearly demonstrating that there is a drainage issue...following its lead to the bathroom...the floor around the toilet grateful that I brought my spectacles this time...splashing water as flaccidity returns with none of the usual enjoyment involved beforehand.

Stripping and turning on the shower...standing under it and attempting to quiet my mind...pay attention only to the water...rivulets running down my body...dripping off appendages…swirling down the drain always making me think of Psycho.

My mind snapping back into the present as the routine begins again. The machine starts running and moving to the beat the row master in my heart sets it to. I feel human and a little less than human again, and every action doesn't feel like there is a bloated pause between them.

about me. not really.

dear you,

i don't talk about my child or being a mom. i don't talk about my garden. i won't mention my craftiness (often) or how much i save each week with coupons. if you're looking for that sort of thing, you're in the wrong place.

instead, let's abandon the tethers of domestication for a moment and remember what it's like to laugh at vulgarity and the world at large.

xo,

j

talk amongst ourselves


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