Help. I can’t swim.
September 23, 2010 § Leave a comment
Seems like we’re either careful, careless or carefree, either way, neither belong to me. I’m a nobody. I always care too much. What I wouldn’t give to be somewhere in between careless and carefree, and care for nobody.
Oh Emily, she wrote:
“Why do I love” You, Sir?
The Wind does not require the Grass
To answer—Wherefore when He pass
She cannot keep Her place.
I cannot keep my place, I cannot keep your pace. You have years; I still have heart and I’m young enough to be proud of it. I would not replace it with this writ for all the world.
I just want everything to hurt less, and not all at once. It wanes gradually now, and then I feel the fatigue inside of me like a flame that eats me wholly hungrily angrily.
Is this the ‘jaded’ definition? When I feel that itch I want not to feel it, and when I cannot feel I want to feel anything, as I fear the numbness more than feeling.
And I’ve been crying out for help for my whole life and I’ve hung from balconies, jumped out onto motorways, screamed in parks and crept to the edges of rooftops when no one would listen to the sound of me breaking from the inside out.
Soon you will lose me you will lose me you will lose me, not even blindness will save me. I can scent the end as surely as your morning shower, for it is chemical and unromantic and a vision to behold for the blind behind your blackout.
What will it be, asks the dew of the tree. Will it be lightning, asks the dew. Will it be death by dearth? I know not, replies the tree. I know not why I crackle in this breeze. I know not why I shiver in the sun. I know not how I know that I am broken. Who has told me, who? asks the tree of the dew. Was it you?
There is no reply, the dew being swept like sleep from an eye under the sunshine.
It is morning. I am broken.