Thursday, September 03, 2015

Do not love me

I am irreconcilable with myself.

I want to be a person but I am only hopes
and hope is useless.

Sometimes, you spend all your money and get nothing for it but you felt you had to do it. Do not love me. You will get nothing for it. You will realise you thought there was a man and all you got was fragments. No matter how you piece them together, they make an ugliness that you thought you saw and ignored.

I realise I would be happier if I stopped lying. But first I have to know what the truth is. Or agree there is no truth to find. I sometimes think, it amounts to the same thing.

***

Did you ever wake up and wonder, where am I? Just for a moment. Then you realise it doesn't matter. You're where you are.

But do you sometimes wake up and wonder, who am I? Most people seem untroubled and I am envious. Most people believe they are sources and destinations of love and that is who they are.

I feel like I am asleep and will never wake up.

***


When I was with B, I often woke up with bruises and scratches. I didn't look too hard into it, not because I feared she was doing it but because I thought I was.

Sometimes she would joke that I should do what she wanted because she knew where the knives were and it wasn't all that funny because she really was capable of hurting me in my sleep.

Sometimes I hope I won't remember where the knives are.

***

It is a terrible thing to realise that you are horrified by what others cherish and that you too are one of them.

When I was a teen, I was certain that I had been marooned on a strange planet. Now I know it was wishful thinking and I was nothing special at all.

I feel, constantly, as though I lost something somewhere and the worst of it, worse than any loss, the inconsolable fact of my life, is that the biggest lie I tell is that I had it in the first place.

Do not love me. When you dive beneath the shell beneath the shell beneath the shell you will not find anything at all.

    Our dried voices, when
    We whisper together
    Are quiet and meaningless
    As wind in dry grass
    Or rats' feet over broken glass
    In our dry cellar
 

1 Comments:

At 1:26 pm, Blogger Aliy Gee said...

we all know where the knives are.

every one of us.

but we also all get to choose.

I choose no knives, no threats, but free will.

I choose you in my freedom.

 

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