Friday, September 13, 2013

that place / gamechanger

here is the quiet place ,
i can hear flower petals in the night
and when my knees shake i think i believe in god
and, maybe, even myself.

here i do not move.
some few hours a night i lay still.
and try not to be scared of everything i'm so close to.
maybe, even myself.


___*___*___*

it's the scariest thing in the world to want something. not 'oh yah, that'd be nice', i'm talking want. it's a pain. a vulnerability. because if you want it, you put yourself out. you're vulnerable. a flick hurts to the core. a win is an earthquake. i'm on the precipice of a gamechanger. straight-up. the big leagues. i mean it. son of immigrants. confused. never once in ten years knew where i was going. cried on the couch of so many friends... how'd i become this. so close to it. effing big leagues.

i got my suit pressed. bought a new shirt - so that i can do up the top button and still breathe. got a haircut. shaved my beard. i'll get my shoes shined next week. will pick a tie. i think my grandfather's. i've got seven days to climb a mountain. and the whole time, fight against a job that's driving me nuts from 8am till 1am everyday. against that and everything that that means. everything i can leave behind if i can just hope my way out of this and into this.

(i had not known dreams could be this true).
(i had not known dreams could hurt).

i am almost invincible these days. i'm more tree than man. and somehow,
all i want to do is crawl up in someone's lap and cry. i haven't felt that need in years.


___*___*___*

- i read an article about emotional unavailability
- right.
- it was like... some stupid chick magazine, '5 signs that say he's emotionally unavailable' - something like that
- hmm
- and i was like omg, this is q! you were every single sign.
- and?
- every. single. sign.
- how have we been hanging out all year and you've only just come to this conclusion?


___*___*___*

she cried.
i clutched a pillow to my chest till it was all over.
but i'm right here. even if you're you, i'm still here. how does that not matter?
all i could hear were the possums creeping around the trees outside.
whatever. i don't wanna talk about this. forget i brought it up. #toosoon.


___*___*___*

i'm getting younger with age.


___*___*___*

more people believe in me than i realised. i'm humbled by this. i don't understand it, but i'm humbled by it.


___*___*___*

it might be loneliness. maybe that's it.
this is the problem with my obsessiveness. my single-mindedness doesn't permit derivation or distraction. i'm consumed by it. the wants - when i'm brave enough to engage with them demand everything.
everything must be given she said - i recently read the Satanic Verses - it's one of the refrains, everything must be given.

(& so it is with life.
everything.

till i am dust, panting.
and the cracks in my bones finally feel free enough to exhale.

how strange the sound of all this.


___*___*___*

in seven days i'll sit around a table with nine people. i have to come off the pills. i need to be more me. the robot has to be put back in the closet.

what then?

who knows.

BIG leagues.
wants.

a future i had not thought possible.
possibly earned, more like: willed to life.


___*___*___*

or i could forget the whole thing and watch another 2 episodes of friday night lights.

1 comment:

Synesthete said...

I love the poem (assuming it was intended as such) at the beginning of this post. You have a brilliant voice, so good that after reading the latest few posts on your blog I still can't work out if this is your life or a story. I can only assume it's true for lack of confirmation otherwise, which fills me with a deep sadness, but also a hope that maybe you can get back to no-pill Sunday everyday, and make it no-rum Everyday too.