get out

A bout of intense depression had clouded my thoughts for weeks. I was at my breaking point, that point where I was sure that if something wonderful or something terrible did not happen soon, I was going to lay on the floor in exhaustion....staring blankly and blinking only when the burn of the wind was too much to bear, tears of pain rolling down my cheeks...the only tears this face had met in far too long.

But Sunday it was as if the cloud lifted...the black balloon bursted into a thousand peices, too small for anything to choke on. And now my head pounds from hunger, so much that I must go to sleep to end it.

green-ish

he keeps a tiny flip book in his left back pocket
it is filled with poems about silly things like
oppression
poor people
conspiracy
and myself..
He told me once that he knew me.
and I say "you don't really.
you just want ME
to think YOU
know everything."
But he did not..
and I never told him.
End of converstion
so we began to talk about money because it seems to be the flesh
and the guts and perhaps even the bones of everything
and God is nowhere to be found.
because THAT would be silly
like me and my dreams
which would therefore belong
with the other silly things
quietly riding
in back of his jeans
that are from 1998 but have never been in style....
with wierd pockets that don't fit anyones' butt i mean not even people in 1998 much less HIS butt which is sexy
because he thinks it is, which somehow makes the jeans in style (though they have NOT ever been)
but he makes them glorious...
with snakeskin shoes.

What a horrible combination
but still somehow very sexy because he, with his great big ego, is underneath it all.
...and though he will never be famous
he will always act like he is.

And to the lonely, only me
on my little planet he'll always be
famous..

which he will never EVER know about because I can never EVER tell him
so as to avoid bloating his already enormous head...
and if you poked it with something sharp and very small
I imagine that EGO
(which is probably green, like money....the flesh of all guts of all bones of all people LIKE him) would come hissing out..
for twenty yards or so I imagine..
and I would chase him down the hallway batting his hands away from the tiny (but awesome) hole in his shrinking head....
So we wrestle and roll
as I strive to control
the perfidy
the bulge
the ego
the ugly
swell of his now shrinking head.

And I hold back his hands
So perhaps I could drain it.....
say, a third???
or maybe less,
we will eye-ball it.
...so NOW we sit at the end of the hallway, I am holding an old towel.....
by this time he has surrendered
because you would be surprised what a little less ego can do.

we are looking at the hallway,
we are seeing the green spattered walls
how fortunate, I would think, that we painted them green when we moved here.
We would be winded from the chase, we would catch our breath at the end of the hallway
and sit in awe for several minutes.
breathing.

"wow" i would say,
"You should write about this."