lubricated
brain for so
quickly forsaking
any hurting of
feelings
and going
for the throat;
like a demented
oh, so mutated
virus. call
it stealthy,
call it bold--
i call it simply
my keldy.
where
would this
world be
without our random
but consistent
cases of the
FUCK YOU's?
lu`bri`cate [loo-bri-keyt]
-verb (used with object)
- to apply some oily or greasy substance to (a machine, parts of a mechanism, etc.) in order to diminish friction; oil or grease (something).
- to make slippery or smooth; apply a lubricant to: to lubricate one's hands with lotion.
- to smooth over, as a difficulty or human relationship; ease: to lubricate the friction between enemies.
all these sad songs and sonnets of macabre poetry have ceased to well up inside of me. have stopped yelling out in gurgling, stammering coughs and rumbling deep inside my setting lungs--now i feel that i can finally breathe. and no longer do i think of snow white porcelain skin pressed thinly between my scarred up fingers, darkly against it's nature. no longer do i think of emerald green eyes that blink so dully--lifeless and bland and empty, abating and consuming. and i don't reminisce of old crooked lips and teeth and camel silver smoke drifting from our chimney mouths while i had my hours of normalcy out by the coffeehouse and wasting wishes willing things to become more simple and beautiful like they were before.
i am wrangled up, entangled in a mess of smiling eyes and singing tongues. he's pulling at his stringy beard and wrapping up his fingers in mine and we talk about how he really is a beautiful writer, how i would love to be a part of the spilling of his thoughts upon blank and wide-ruled paper. and s is learning about herself while we blow jeger-cherry fumes around in o's and french inhales and mushroom clouds. she's singing johnny cash but her voice makes the lyrics sound so soft and free, not glutteral and stomached and choked so i can hear the lyrical doggerel clearly. and m is just so sweet and smiling. feed my stupid drunken stupor. sit in the rain and listen to ani difranco while we read to eachother these words and rhymes and names and only whisper stories of things we would rather not be involved in. we have a super-friends coffee mug we fill with flavoured grogg, and she always sits outside with me while i smoke around. i saw m-bear last night. i missed her. but estatic i hugged her and held her and picked her up and swung her around because i never have to choose to have a night of calm and peace over having friends who love me.
i feel all progress starts and stops with her.
the claws that have dug in my skin and held me in place for so long have finally been removed.
and now i have nothing but open gashes, scars upon my sides.
i know that god enters through the wounds.
thank you for making me so holey.
i love this happiness.
i love this freedom.
i love feeling like myself again.
