It's a wonderful gift. Truly it is.
But I cannot accept it.
To do so would be to accept resignation, defeat. And that I cannot do.
My eyes bleed with sadness, my hands can no longer grasp at hope and I feel the corners pressing down; squeezing me.
I know I have every right and no right. And therein lies my dissatisfaction.
I choose to walk along the river's bank, to balance precariously above the torrent that would sweep me to my death; but I cannot choose my doom.
The simplest thing: to choose a shirt and wash it. Press it. Wear it. I can enjoy the gentle lulling flow of blood forced 120/80 and see with eyes that are not eyes.
And I am happy for the day to run its course, neither melancholy nor pedantic, just methodical.
So there is peace. And Satisfaction has not to move a muscle, but I cannot sit still.
I cannot share the room, nor fix its gaze with mine outstaring, else my sight is stolen, drawn from me by mournful eye.
I cannot share the shadows, mine to obscure, yours to settle and thicken like dust-filled cobwebs.
I cannot stem the light with a silent sigh.
But a duty calls and here I sit. Waiting, hoping to outlive the moment's chance and then be free: no longer frozen in opposition...
8 comments:
just plain kinda stunning, man...
I thought it sucked, personally.
:)
Cholostomy!
Buenos dias, ma chere!
I'm so glad you've got someone to write for you and took a wrong turn to get here.
(Note to self: lock the door to keep the little ... out!).
I shall, of course, keep trying to bring myself to the the depths you continually plumb.
p.s. the straitjacket is ready; would you like to try it on now?
...hmmm.
and whose fault is all of this?
and...more besides
*frowns*
I can't deny that I find the hostility between you and my dear friend rather interesting. I have no idea why you choose to harass her.
You entries are like puzzles. I like them.
Feel free to insult me at will, for I am a walking dental commercial.
" my dear friend"
(you admit to this? you, too, are barking!)
As for the answer to your question: I could tell you but then I'd have to tell her; or kill you.
When do you want your execution to take place?
Now! Please put us both out of our misery.
From you. . . that is.
But of course!
I would never deny a lad...hold on, you're no lady!!!
You can just wait your turn!!!
(and in the meantime, I'll make you suffer)
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