Monday, November 8, 2010

DAY 3. Why the Serious Look?

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Day 3 was a day we'd hoped would never come. But it's not like we could avoid it. If things were gonna change, there would inevitably be a third day. After scouring the the streets for warmth, contentment, companionship, nickels, dimes, and isolation we finally found some concrete. The concrete was chipping away revealing a place where only cigarette ashes and broken dreams were found. One side was crumbling and soaked in red. The other side was smooth and unscaved, only showing scuff marks from Berlutis and John Lobbs. It was a hard and unforgiving place to hide from society, and our problems. We never did this by choice. Why would we take responsibility for something so shameful and terrible. It was all my fault.

You would think something so serious and intense would take work. It took the exact opposite. And that was the problem. It took caring about nothing. Thats's a fairly easy thing to do. Terribly confused and locked in box where there are only sharp objects and words with no substance. Why even talk when you have nothing to say? Lets sleep and forget the day. Lets wallow in tablecloths from the finer things in life. Covering broken bones and weary eyes. Shutting out and off until 5:00 am. It begins requiring more effort than is desired. Flashes of reality hit hard, emotions flood like rivers and remorse rises with the sun. None of this is worth it.

He has fallen off his rocker but I'm still hanging on to mine. It's tipping at such an angle that the slightest nudge will send me face first into the floor of the bathroom stall. I can't do it out here. It's way too noisy and this entire city is my only friend. I wouldn't even try. Every time I tried, the first day I spent on the bus gathering transfers and admiring the hispanic women. The 2nd day I work up the courage to talk to one of them right before I decide I'm not getting on the bus. The rest of day two is spent just trying to find that bathroom where my habits and mistakes were slid under the wall to the gentleman in the next stall. I'll give him everything of mine but I wont take anything of his. I don't need his stress, his cares, his passions. I have enough to worry about, in two hours it will be day 3. Lucky me.

We need this day, I love this day. Today is the day. What else can I say. I feel a lot. I know that I have prepared myself for more than 3 days of feelings. I couldn't do it by choice, I made a choice, hand it over to the care of steal, blue, and authority. I lay and I pray wondering how I found this seam of righteousness in the thickness of pain. It will all be ok. A little of this and a little of that. It's nothing I haven't felt before. It is like the misery of your worst day and the emptiness of letting go of everything you thought was good. Who cares, this too shall pass. I will sleep again. I will eat again. I will love again. I will take these chills and these aching limbs and breathe deeply through my hollow soul. At 11:59 I will hold my breath for one minute. Time has passed someone is healed. When I exhale everything is been put back together with strong and sticky glue, I am stuck to the floor, now it's day 4.

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