Posted by marko on 1/10/2007, 8:44 am you must have gotten that from your father. that’s something a mild hangover sunday morning spent staring i can take the blade to my own flesh, but i’m not about a roll of incriminating film & a contaminated bang. don’t who i am & who i aspire to be is a two-headed coin, i was refocusing my energy. how could i appear i don’t insist on speaking in the past tense. but it’s
65.167.39.208
scene 119
he would have done. he never took responsibility for his
mistakes either. it’s not bad blood or the curse of cain.
stop trying to romanticize it. it’s nothing but an excuse.
another failure to make thing right. you won’t sweep up
the pieces, let alone consider the consequences of your
actions. you never apologize. that isn’t an apology. that’s
sarcasm. you’re never sincere. there’s always a slight smirk
on your face. maybe others don’t see it, but i do. anyone
can string together self-condemnation & swing low. that
isn’t penitence. you never plead guilty or innocent. you
scatter the evidence dramatically, then let someone else
decide your fate. you never confess. you throw your hands
in the air. an ambivalent gesture that could be read as
hallelujah, i’ve been released, or thank god, it’s out
of my hands. i do remember enough to make the accusations
stick. you thought you’d get out of this one, didn’t you?
jesus, you remind me so much of him.
scene 120
into a blue screen when the sky is high & truer to
its nature. i’m typing in whatever response seems
adequate, if not particularly inspired. drinking
ritual coffee, trying to shake the mud into the corner.
not overly concerned with absolute clarity. emotions
are pushed into the margins as well. yet it still looks
convoluted to me. though stripped of beastly proportions
& a shortcoming or two. i’m jarred by a name i haven’t
seen spelled out in a year. or maybe six months that
bought into the lie of the mind which compresses rambling
into squares that are easier to read. i’m given a jolt that
there’s a connection. a finely-tuned wiring regimented
for immediate success. never questioning blind chemical
chance, knotted-up reflex, or dulled impulse that won’t let
me run with it at breakneck speed. i’m not exactly sure
what went wrong. but i grieve the loss. am i forgetting
part of the story—because it feels like i am.
scene 121
to let you satisfy your fetish, or blood lust—whatever
it fulfills in you with my pain. when i cut i feel weightless.
i open my mouth as if to scream, but nothing comes out.
i like that. i feel as if i have things under control. but
when someone else is handling the knife it makes me
uncomfortable. i could be sliced a dozen different ways,
& it wouldn’t feel like penitence. it wouldn’t feel like
i was working my way through purgatory. it would only
make me angry. that’s what i’ve been trying to avoid.
i would leave me in a deeper hole than i am already. it
would defeat the entire purpose of the ritual. it wouldn’t
help drain the lineage. it wouldn’t be feverish christ-like
masochism rising to heaven in red beads. i would simply
feel like a victim.
scene 122
you have a conscience? that facade of your leads nowhere.
i don’t see how you keep reeling them in. i suppose i just
answered my own question. now my yellow eyes circled
in cheap mascara follow you everywhere. i wonder if you
can feel it. i’m biding my time. waiting for an opportunity.
i will make amends since i know you never will. others
might see it as resolving issues. some might call it a cold-
blooded ambush. but it doesn’t feel that way to me. i feel
i’m administering justice. who better to take care of business?
i won’t involve the authorities. it would drag on forever.
i don’t need an intermediary to do the dirty work. i realize
i was partly responsible. but it wasn’t even close to a clean
split. you took too much in too little time. that was a mistake.
scene 123
loaded dice, a stacked deck, & many other fixed
number of similes. who i am & what’s expected of
me is apples & oranges, left out on the table too long
after the holidays. grown soft & spoiled. shriveling
into a completely different animal. i can’t draw a direct
correlation between who i am & these insistent memories,
that may not be memories at all. they exaggerate certain
areas that torture me, while downplaying others as insignificant.
one day i’m fed juicy lines. the next day i find them wound
around my neck. too close for comfort. tuned to the blues.
who i am & the world’s impression of me are a puzzled
look, a bewildered shrug, an inconceivable notion, a
terrible misunderstanding. who i am & what i do is
a chemical imbalance that i have little control over. no
one can see how it works. they only consider the results.
the results have not been good.
scene 124
guilty just lying there? i was letting my thoughts
drift. that’s how it works. my mind finds its own level.
i couldn’t do it on my own. i have to let go completely.
i have to resist the urge to chase them back down. you’d
be a better judge of this than me. i mean, you could be
more objective. i cut off all lines of reasoning. i dangle
like a sad puppet. refocus might be a poor choice of words.
my definitions have less & less relationship to the language
of the tribe. i’d probably do as well in a foreign tongue.
& i’d have a decent excuse. what i’m trying to explain,
is that i’m not “thinking” about anything or anyone. i’m
deleting & recharging. i’m rearranging my priorities
without any sound reasoning. i would think you’d have
gotten used to it by now. made an attempt to understand
at least. you never mentioned it before. why all of a
sudden? forget it. i’m done now...
scene 125
appropriate given where we now stand. i’m not
lonely or desperate or any sadder than usual. this
concerns me. it doesn’t seem to be a correct reaction.
it feels like autumn all the time. that’s how i’d describe
it. because you’ve never taken an interest in my art
doesn’t mean i communicate in non sequiturs. i can’t
think of a single time you took my hand without question
& jumped with me. you always lagged behind. i have
no idea if you missed everything because you weren’t
paying attention, or if you deliberately looked the other
way. i don’t know which is worse. it can be both physical
& intellectual. it doesn’t have to be one or the other.
i am an emotional man—when i’m allowed to be.
when i don’t have to fear repercussions.
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