Gone are the hopes of childhood. There is no hope anymore, it is just this that keeps us alive. It's something else that keeps us warm... Is it a trickle? A delicious bouncing percussion that reminds me that music holds all? Humor...the absurdity of it all.
Tonight I attempted to open a bottle of wine, quietly away from my ex-lover who sleeps so fitfully in the next room. The lover who told me less than a week ago that he's in love with another woman. He tells me tonight that he needs to travel to a beautiful island to grieve. For us? I'm so hopeful. NO. He needs to go because the woman he is in love with has rejected him and now he (quote) has no one (end quote). He can't be here and needs someone to look after his other love, a furry feline by the name of Karma.
Go away, you wretched person; you blind imbecile. My fingers ache to rend unholy acts upon your body.. unspeakable actions; you impossible foul fossil.
YOU ARE THE MOST INCREDIBLY BLIND, SELFISHLY CONNIVING, MANIPULATING, MISOGYNISTIC, NARCISSISTIC, SOCIOPATHIC FUCKING WANKER ASSHOLE.
Later this evening, the eruption of emotions found itself quietly but effervescently in the opening of an innocuous wine bottle. No wine bottle opener meets a tomato knife. The stuff of comic legend ha-ha-ha. Reality: the contents of my wine bottle splashed everywhere. The mirror, the sink, the soap dispenser, the essential oils, the jewelry dish, the wall, the toothpaste holder, the grout between the bottle of shaving gel I bought he never uses and the bottles of essential oils I always swore I would. I cleaned it all. Giggling quietly; knowing full well, that even if I clean the wine off everything, there will still be pieces of myself left behind when I leave.
I'm laying down, eating snow
My fur is hot, my tongue is cold
On a bed of spider webs
I think of how to change myself