The Breakdown of the Breakup

TheBreakUp
The reasons were numerous and ludicrous. They tried to talk it out calmly, but logic was not welcome here. There- an argument that made no sense. There- a request too disgusting to dignify with a response. On the one hand everything fit. They looked right. They fit just right. They were already traveling side by side. Why not join in other elemental ways? On the other hand, she was strung way too tightly, he was a pig. She was looking to slip into sophistication. He was looking to live out a real life porno.

Sometimes there is no middle ground when what you’re looking for isn’t even on the same plane. How they didn’t see this coming, nobody knew. Their volatility was obvious to even a casual bystander. Every day at lunch, they bantered at the pizza place on the square, scorching wit paired with playing footsie under the table. Sparks flew. Curses abounded. It was all very entertaining. But there was a brittle edge that belied the ease of the relationship.

She was a rookie in the corporate world, taking in her surroundings. He was a shark, swimming and feeding and fucking with no conscience. Their appeal originally had to be proximity. Too many hours in the office. You pass a decorated cake often enough, you’ll want a piece even if you’re more the pie type. They would soon find they weren’t even made of the same stuff; she was a German Chocolate cake, with several ingredients and complicated timing. He was a bear claw- a fried piece of dough with sweet icing and fierce appearance. OK. Enough with the bakery analogies.

Somehow, their wildly different backgrounds and cultures had been overlooked at the outset. They were dazzled by the sleek, new models they found in each other. The new car smell was intoxicating, so to speak. Before getting into vehicular metaphors, we can just come to an understanding that all was new and glorious and exciting, as it always is in the beginning. What was surprising in this case was the speed at which their “love” imploded. There is an acceptable trajectory and this was like a fast-moving comet.

Can too many metaphors spoil a saucy tale?

So back to the breakup. She wanted to see this through, give it a shot, at least have a last hurrah. He wanted to do things to her that made her gag. Someday maybe she’d have regrets, but she was still young enough to be shocked. Someday he’s find someone he wouldn’t want to use as a foul toy, but he was too jaded at that point in time to have any focus.

So there was yelling. Pushing. Nudity. Shock. Sleep. Accusations. Jokes. Incredulity. Leering. Magnetism. Ten states of matter that mixed and proved combustible to this couple. They would later only have flashes of memory of their time together. How they walked through the city, quickly and in step with each other. How they shared a few quiet moments in the elevator. How they ate in companionable silence and danced in a darkened club. How they moved together. Looked to each other. Like shards stuck in amber, those few moments will last longer than either of them would admit.

Queen of Spades

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Hail, queen of the idiots!
I am to be revered for all my quirks and foibles.
You must feel like bowing in the face of such incompetence.
Or at least feel like running away.
No truer words need be said besides touting all the times I’ve tripped and erred.
I’m not sure I’d recognize the right path no matter how well trimmed and lit;
I much prefer making things hard on myself.
Life may be difficult, but I only wallow in comfort when I’m in extreme discomfort.
Have things ever gone smoothly?
Of course but the times were fleeting at best.
Do we rise to our stupidity? Sink to our depravity?
What makes us keep trying?
Do connections really count or is all the time we spend an excuse and distraction from the torment we hold at bay, the fate that we know lurks around the corner.
Hope abandoned long ago, my heart has atrophied.
The only fluttering I feel is the moths flying out of the closet.

Carve a Tapestry

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There’s nothing I wouldn’t do, though I may be slower finding my place
It’s hard finding a place to step between the cracks
Carving a path when there are signs pointing another way

My goals are vague
My morals suspect
My fears are like everyone’s
My ideas are my own

There’s never been a time I felt at ease, though I don’t have those aspirations any longer
It’s tough to be satisfied as you set to expose an approved self
Creating a figure out of so many others’ threads

You’re a tapestry
Your voice rings true
You have a place with me.

Gone

Finally a minute to breathe and I find you gone
So much noise to sift through
Too many choices
I’m sorry I’m so weak
I couldn’t tear my eyes away
The ugliness drew me in
I was listless and lost
The phantom sensations and tastes were magic
No thought was necessary
Only feeling
A whole day wasted
When it could have been with you

Panic

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No matter she sat in a room full of people; she was as always alone in her thoughts. Listening to speeches and the crowd murmurings, she began to feel the familiar panic welling within. The voices started sounding like a Greek chorus speaking Pig Latin. The air felt thinner as if she were climbing towards a summit. In the rare instances she was addressed, she could nod and offer appropriate platitudes. But the rest of her time was spent trying to breathe and smile.

She glanced at the teeming hordes in their finery and felt like a snail: all slippery and delicate on the inside but housed in a society-approved shell. How long was long enough at this event before she could go home and strip her defenses? She’d rather give up the expensive filet and fancy dress here and eat cookies naked at home.

Picturing the falling cookie crumbs brought her heart back to an acceptable rhythm. She imagined her favorite detective on tv, unravelling mysteries while crumbs fell between her breasts. Realizing a stuffed shirt was addressing her, she nodded and laughed at his silly joke with her mind on the cookies she had baked that morning. The chandeliers seemed to highlight the egos of the room and she wondered if she could find and solve any mysteries here. People and their frippery were certainly a puzzle to her.

Were people really concerned about the so called “winners” of recent reality shows? Were they so delusional they thought a politician’s speech would make any difference? Were they so sure of their status they quoted only recent best selling novels? Where were the artists, the thinkers, the inventors?

She felt bile rising up as she started to fall into a chasm. She was alone again in a large room full of people. No one there knew her or could tell she was in trouble. She could drown in a sea of societal mores.

Then with a start she had a thought: what if there were others here just like her? What if they were hiding their uniqueness under cloaks of respectability? What if others were suffering like she was at that moment, sipping their drug of choice to maintain an almost even keel? How would she ever know? There were no signals. No way of telling what lurked beneath the drones.

Steeling herself with an outward calm, she knew it was almost over. Just a few more handshakes, nods, and empty smiles and she was home free. She felt the confines of her dress’ seams and knew she’d be comfortable in her own skin again soon. With no one but herself to please, she just had to let the clock run out and get home.

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