on willingness to move
2005-07-19 1:49 p.m.
please don't mistake me for the woman i was, said hanging on the front door, and the city didn't seem to take any notice, of their feet buried deep into the pavement, this is a story on stanceson willingness to move
unspoken, i must have made my silent way, and even on apologies i'm nothing, some uninformed victim of male society, and i end with
we'll have to agree to disagree
of all things.
what's happened?
my skin has changed with the summer, i am copper colored, with white scratches baring their teeth to anyone with a potent eye or similar history (we all recognize one another,
unwillingly)
i have poured my pride out in strange, uncompromising letters, and every time i have said that i was learning to be humble, another blow has fallen
don't call me Job, yet. don't give me that curse.
i have not been subject in years to any master, and i am eyeing the end of july, with anniversaries of dissolution. this time,
i am unnerved, hard going, stagnant, relentless, unknowing
among many other things.
and there is no such salvation as forgiveness to come by, between you and me - just a series of memories evolved from your past life, signals and seraphim can sing all they want to
but you'll still be the other end of this conversation, listening intently to your own irregular heartbeat, and unable
to fully explain the situation, how one man led to another man led to many, and how they ultimately were the same, handshakes and harmonies, ankles ready for aiming, indiscrete, against your own legs
you will go searching for a center, for a peace, for some foolhardy notion to which you can cling, and instead will find the clock at four in the morning, your eyes bloodshot and heavy, your limbs
spread indifferently
to some upcoming movement.
friendship, no, we've finished up this chapter long before aging changed our cheekbones into saintly shapes - we're looking for a starting place of definition, but how can other people ever define you
when you are so goddamned hidden, a glass clinking kind of person, only held long enough to gain some attention?
don't give me speeches anymore, i've raised my head in questions, and i am quite done with humans, but this is selfish, and i am still such an infant, clinging to the safety of my sentence.