Pages

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Ponderosa



 Musings of a general multitude fill the crackles between my neurons, soaked in randomized factoids, grounded by memories, jumping from end to cellular end. The myriad philosophies I've been exposed to: nihilistic, naive, cynical, romantic, idealistic, optimist, pessimist, pessoptimist, the undefined nomenclature to describe a person who thinks this way then and that way some other time.

Want to understand better than I do. Want to have answers before they're really necessary. Want to know, actually know, what the fuck I'm doing with my life. This two-step from a ten-story high-rise isn't fun anymore. The excitement of falling to my metaphorical death has lost its charm. Now I just want a woman's soft arms around my ribs, squeeze me tight in bed as we fall asleep together. This would make me feel like everything's (gonna be) alright.

But these thoughts keep tossing - blanket, sheets, pillows out of pillow-cases, until I'm naked on the mattress, uncovered amongst the nighttime as the sweat of unstoppable concerns slip down my skin, drop by uncertain drop. I'm scared so much of the time for what I don't know. And what I do is frightening too.

There are such things in my head... I wish I could forget. The memories I have are so painful, so vivid, I want to claw my eyes out like Oedipus, blind myself for all the world to never see these horrible images again. But I can't. Even then, to take those final, irrevocable steps are beyond me. I'm such a coward, can't even kill myself (if I wanted to) but at least maim? Nope, still such a pussy piece of shit.

Yet mixed with the sins and regrets of my own life are those from the people I've met. The drug addicts, the alcoholics, the borderline personality disorder women, the anorexics, bulimics, schizophrenics, depressed, chronically dissatisfied, homeless, hopeless, dazed, confused, the complete and utter spectrum of humanity's darker sides, even murderers, rapists, thugs of every kind. They all tell me their stories, as if I can help. As if I know some shit!

Gawd, how much I wish... How much I wish for the power to quiet the raging torrent of thoughts you're reading now. How much I want to hold them back, push them back, beat them and break them until even their ripples have dissipated into quiet, into calm, into serenity. The silence of sleep inside my head, all stray madness aside, gone like it never was.

But won't happen. This is my surreality. My daily struggle continues, stretches cross every landscape from my life, desert to forest to mountain peak to deep blue sea. Gonna be fighting to just live for the rest of my life.



0 footnotes: