ResistedNormalcy

Let me speak plainly. Things move, the atmosphere shifts, ribs sigh, and a boy is hardened by a lifetime of heartache. I dawdle. I pause, breathe deeply, and want time to move and I want it to stop. The conflict grinds at the fulcrum; just my palpitating heart.

Let me tell you.

I eat up days. I chew, swallow, spit, savor. I see old faces, old friends and lovers, and they are familiar and warm. I scribble while talking on the phone, I talk and write and watch and sleep. I take two pills daily; the bottle empties out. My sickness fades. This is the subtle ascent.

I am smiling and nearly complete, watching pieces of myself shed and reappear; amputate and transmogrify. I am self-absorbed and missing my girl. She is there. I hear her voice, and it is simple and intact. I fracture at the sound, because it is familiar and crystalline. The shutter snaps, catches light, and there we are: held.

Things are short because they are beautiful. The paragraphs won’t ache for me. They won’t stretch with anxiety or awkward tendons because I am not trapped. Walls are moveable, elastic, decalcified. Time is only a relative force.

Filed under: Blather on June 15th, 2007