|When The Rain
||[Jul. 6th, 2009|05:50 pm]
It's over now. |
All the scheming, all the compartmentalising is finished. It was wiped away in a few seconds. I keep playing the scene over in my head, wondering what I was thinking, what made me that brazen in that moment. All I come back to is that they were so beautiful, just too amazing to pass up this time, at this moment.
I didn't even stop when I started noticing people I knew walking by. I dissapointed the hell out of my friends, good people, ones I loved dearly. There was only skin, eyes, teeth, lips, and me.
I will not deny who I am for one more second.
I love women. I love the sounds the make, and the way they move, and I want all of them all of the time. But someone I love never knew the level of it all and here I am now. I have blisters on my feet and my entire wardrobe is most likely somewhere between here and the 405. I keep moving from the bed to the table to the Tequila and then back to the bed. Everything about me feels disconnected, rather half-connected. No one to blame but me.
While I'm sitting here I'm forced to realize some things about myself, like I've never been *out* of a relationship. From sixteen until now I've been hopping from one place to another, always keeping a foot in one pool while trying to leap to the next. This is no way to do things, not any longer. It chips away at my spirit until I'm... well until I'm like I am now, unshaven unwashed and unable to move. I realize that there was something horribly wrong, too far back for me to see. I'm not sure what, but I have my theories. My brother hung himself in jail three weeks ago rather than serve a thirty year sentence for rape. There has got to be *something* back there.
Right now, I'm trying to pick up the pieces or at least to start considering picking something up in earnest. In the meantime I go from tire-tread numb to surface of the sun panic, it rolls over, it comes back. Within it I'm reminded that I've left a corpse by the highway, and it was a beautiful girl that just wanted to love me. It wasn't her fault she never knew who me, was.
For now these cigarettes keep burning down, one after the other. I breathe in, then I breathe out. I roll over in my mind if I am sick, or if I was just unable to express who I really was for so long that I don't know how to do anything else. If all this has a blessing it's that denial isn't one of the tools in my armory any longer. That should offer some solace, but all I feel is each person I've let down, every wasted thing I ever said.
It's over, maybe it's starting. Maybe it's a waste and maybe I'm better off dead. If my chest ceased rising I'd be just that pretty thing, unable to betray or lie or do anything other than just be.
I have to chuckle at the irony in that. In death to be able to do the thing I found so hard in life. Just be. At once all the profunditity of trying to understand myself and not hurt others rendered successful and final.
Mother Moon, Sister Storm, Father Sun help me.
For I am lost.