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Saturday, March 08, 2003
My eyes narrow. I often narrow them to lessen the urge to cry. I take the band from its small shrine. Gently, I run the cloth over to clean it It grows warm with my touch. 'I'm so tired of being here' I think about him. In the closet its dark and he whispers to me… “I love you… always.” '…your presence still lingers here and it won't leave me alone' I cling to him. He means so much. I believe him. This time I believe him so strongly. 'These wounds won't seem to heal This pain is just too real There's just too much that time cannot erase' I knew he was curled on the floor. He was whispering. Whispering in an abstract tongue, but I understood every word. I can save you. I won’t let you fall. I’m here. 'When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears' His knees tucked below his face as he cried into them “Let me hold you.” His blue eyes peered out at me. He leaned in with a slow breath And I held him. 'When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears' I awoke to hear faint sounds of distress as he tossed and turned. I slipped off from the couch and over to him. My arms looped about him. He was alright. He had trouble sleeping. But I was there. This time I was there for it. 'I've held your hand through all of these years' I hope we’ll always be good friends. Maybe we both can have a friendship that lasts for once… 'I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone…' I turn the ring in my fingers. It shines with the luster it once had when it arrived. It shines like… I place it back to its resting spot next to me. '…and though you're still with me I've been alone all along.' Friday, March 07, 2003
Wishes go on being mere wishes The blood beating through my heart is only blood. It once beat with purpose. Drained. Stripped. Sigh I’m as poetic at wet paint. Watch me dry. He almost lost it last night. This was my doing. Again. Ryan, I’m sorry. I ask: When I apologize to him, do I apologize to myself? When I forgive him, do I forgive myself? If he is me, does that mean there can be deliverance? No, not yet. No, this isn’t possible. Ever. A frosty aura gently hugs the form of the crescent moon tonight. The shadow of a crow throws its silhouette into the night sky. I see no stars. I press the shakuhachi to my lips. A few mellow notes escape with each breath I administer. This is contemplation. If only I knew how to play it. Oh my mind. Why now. Shaun. You have flown into my mind. A bird through an open window. Where are you now? Do you know that I still think of you? Do you even know I care? My thoughts must help release you. But they will not. Tempestuous past how dare you haunt me. Flashback I am in the dark. My life suspended by a worn thread. Slowly- Death chews at it. I’m slipping. I’m in a corner. Something has been taken from me this night That I can never have back. I am the lowest life on earth. Shaun crawls over to me. He takes his blanket and wraps it around me. I am surrounded in warmth. Flooded with comfort and awe. I do not know if Shaun understands what has just happened. I hope he doesn’t. I’m afraid he does. I do not deserve this charity. I do not deserve this comfort. I am ash. I am dust. I am nothing. I shrug off the blanket and my eyes narrow. Tears pool in my eyes and the world is a soft grey blur of night. I have done wrong. This is my fault. He moves in closer and places the blanket around me, more firmly this time. We argue silently between my act of letting the blanket- this comfort and care and love- slip from my person and his act of persistence. “Please accept this.” He whispers. He holds it on me this time, with an arm. He is so close to me. But I am diseased, I am horrible. Doesn’t he know? He stays with me through this night that could have been… Breathe out, Surface to Reality I gently slip the flute back into the velvet pouch. I remember everyone. I still remember you. Do you remember me? Thursday, March 06, 2003
He sleeps While I remain awake In this moment I watch over all again I am alone in a cloud of presence. Starving to death in a kitchen full of food. I am starved. I can feel the fillings in my teeth crack as my jaw clenches tighter. I don’t notice that I do this, until I feel the cracking. I try to loosen my jaw. I try. I never said I was a winner in these battles. I close my eyes and walk myself down the sidewalks of Troy. I pass by a building painted in a quaint rust red. Paint peeling off it like human skin. I lifted my hand and let my fingers brush across the painted icon of a dove that lay on the wall. I’m not religious, but I do this when I pass by. Then in the apex of sorrow… I slipped. Crashing down into the ice. It should have been my head. Never mind. Blinding snow. I kept walking. Slipped again. I could fight back anything except my tears. Walking. My feet hit ice again. False alarm. He’s playing with me. God, stop it! Flashback Cold, dim night waiting for the bus. Alone. Not Alone. A man sat across from me, waiting. “How old are you?” I blinked at the question. “How old do you think I am?” “17?” “I’m 20, flattered though.” “Do you have a boyfriend?” “Yes I do.” “Does he treat you right? He doesn’t hit you does he?” He isn’t here. He lives a world away from me. My mind ached. “No he doesn’t do that. I love him. He’s wonderful.” “Good, that’s how it should be. Good luck to you.” “Thank you.” Flashback I remove the Magic 8-Ball from the shelf and shake it vigorously. He smiles at me. I giggle and protectively clutch it to myself. He is unable to see. I ask my question. The triangle floats through the blue liquid exposing its infinite wisdom. I smile at the answer. He is still smiling too, but curious. “What did you ask?” “Not telling.” I tip it over and place it back. I take his hand. I feel enlightened in this moment. “Please?” “Ask me later my dearest.” I couldn’t jinx it now. I imagined the future twenty years from now. Him napping in the warm sunlight and I whisper softly the question I had asked oh so many years ago to the Magic 8-Ball. Return to Reality ‘Will we truly be together for life?’ ‘Definitely’ Cold washes over me. Damn the tears. I cannot fight you. Wednesday, March 05, 2003
There is a song for every thought in your mind. And they ask: Penny for your thoughts? I have a Jukebox in my head running on copper currency, spitting out songs for the moments as they flutter by. Sleep last night was like a wave. In and out. Then I was awake. My phone nagging at me. Beep. Beep. Beep. It was dying. Bloody thing. Beep. Beep. Beep. Sighing, I switched phones and continued my talk with Ryan. We had slept again over the phone. There was comfort in these talks and long hours on the phone. I craved so much the friendship I had lost when my husband died. My best friend. My best memory. My finest hours. Husband… Always that image burned into the back of my mind, Treasured forever in the warm protected depths. Oh how the crows watch me now. They grow ever bolder as spring approaches. I watch them fish for worms. That indeed, was a hearty and humorous expression to use. Fish for worms, worms for fish. Story of our lives. The sky was a clean slate of grey. I wish it were my clean slate. My second chance. Fresh and new like the mud below layers of ice. Faint greens coughing through winter sludge that had built up. I was starting to feel sorry for it all. Empathy. Remorse. Emotional fool… Its what got me here in the first place. Fool again. I felt like Persephone. I was bringing in the seasons. I was changing. Spirit shifting. Yet… All too late for my husband to have seen. Carefully I insert another penny into my mind and listen. Gears click. Record spins. Sound. “Shine bright morning light, Now in the air the spring is coming…” Tuesday, March 04, 2003
The soap was burning through my eyes I felt like a guinea pig Test Subject No. 42 Single packets of some big company’s newest product. Last year’s trashed formula makes a comeback "New and Enhanced." It gets packaged and sent out to unsuspecting college students. Who knows what horrible fate awaits us. At least I’m not glowing green. The bitter taste of liquid soap in my mouth still lingering. I spat into the sink again. I leaned back into my chair, my head buzzing as I tried to piece my day back together. Dinner- four cold fries and two cookies Lunch was more reasonable at half a sandwich and some cold rice salad with fries. Breakfast becomes non-existent for most early morning class college students. Plaster mold making. Van ride home, stretched in the warm sun, staring at the blue sky. My head whispering to myself if I looked hard enough I would one day see my husband flying up there. I came home. Ryan didn’t leave today; he was supposed to go for a while. We ended up falling in and out of a nap-like state. I think I slept too long. Oh, sleep. I had gotten all too much as of late, but it felt like an incredibly relieving massage after its lack of presence before. I dreamt of my husband. For a brief second I saw his face pass by. Like sunshine hitting it as it had in the airport before he left for the last time. The last time I’d ever see him again. I can put his face together with my fingers still. I used to make him smile for me so I could feel how his lips felt when he was happy. In the dream he slowly faded out… I woke up. 4 o’clock. AM? I sat up straight clutching the phone to my ear. “Ryan?” The line was dead. Countdown 5… 4… I hung up and gently wiped the oil from it. How embarrassing. I needed a shower. But where was I? 3... Had I slept all night? Was it the morning already? Why was there so much light? Had I slept for days? 2… The phone rang. I told him about my dream. I am so confused. 1 Tears filtering down again. Things would never be the same. Monday, March 03, 2003
False alarm. I had spoken too soon. Again, sleep eludes me like the answer to the most simplistic riddle. Sunday, March 02, 2003
If this is your first night at sleep club You have to sleep. These are Ryan’s words. Ryan’s words in my head. I’ve never been able to carry such lengthy conversations with myself before. I sit back in my chair Staring at the ceiling And wonder if this is healthy. Time now passes in quick outbursts. One minute you’re there… The next minute Its two hours later, pitch black And infomercials have taken over every station on your TV like a fascist conspiracy. Jaw lowered in stupor, sucking up air I wonder where I’ve been. I need to clean up this mess. I’m changing the channel. Watch it slowly tell the story of my life. We now return you to our regularly scheduled program. My head feels like it is being pushed under water by an invisible force. Dunking me. I pull up, it pushes down again. What is this force? “I think they call it gravity,” Chimes the voice of Ryan. “I think you’re right,” I reply. “Its also probably lack of sleep too.” He adds. I nod. The obvious staring viciously into my face. He could try and be more original. Of course I never fretted over originality. Just sincerity. My voice is asleep now And I am watching over everything. Then something happened. I slept. I had achieved this by concentrating on the deep sleep breathing that was Ryan. Because of me, he had insomnia for years. While I slept the peaceful life of regularity, he suffered. Ryan can still hardly sleep. One of the only things I can do to help make this better, is let him sleep with the comfort of knowing someone is around- and staying on the phone. I do not mind this. From there I can watch the world, from my place in the background. A place where I can be invisible. I shadow myself. It’s like sitting in the corner of some strange bar. In a chair. Bottle of Gin. Cigarette in hand. Thinking of this, I think of him again. I had done it all wrong. It cost me his life. His life. Squeeze my eyes and shudder. Oh god, I think I’m dying. I hear your voice… When I awoke, my life became like a glowstick that had just been snapped to allow the chemicals to start its reaction. Its luminous liquid content slowly spreading outward in a linear fashion. Linear sleep. This felt new to me. And it had only been a few irregular days. It was as if the entire blurred, buzzing reality that had been lack of mind’s rest, had not even existed at all. Oh, I had thought too much in this moment of wakefulness. The tide was coming in. This was something even I hid from my alter self. These are my feelings. These are my reasons. This is my life. And its moving on without me. |
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