Arterial.

And, somehow,
it’s obvious,
raw right now,
I’m dubious,
raised eyebrow,
how scandalous,
I’m over-thinking:
staunch and unblinking,
ever force-feeding,
til this nauseasness,
gets swallowed back down,
And, it repeats again,
its strenuous,
this routine I live within,
life’s tedious,
I ooze falsification,
that’s spontaneous,
I’m unbending:
by extending,
what’s pretend,
every inhalation,
a breathing fabrication,
I know how,
this saga ends,
And, someday,
eventually,
the stain fades,
from visibility,
words said,
defferentially,
in stones marking graves,
these pathways,
to eternity,
paved by anxiety,
are, potentially,
theoretically,
the way out,
of the self-doubt,
raging throughout,
every last artery.

Fuck It.

fuck it

On This Door the Opportunist Knocks

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Yeah, well – not this environment, not this time, not any more.

The VIP has left the building, Ghost…without you.

 

All else aside, I realize what it’s been that has held me up over this most recent ugliness spewed at me by the presence of a disguised opportunist – previously in very close quarters to my life and heart – I see what has been bothering me so much about it all: it’s the metallic, residual taste of blood in my mouth;

the sobering fact that once someone stings me – once another unwelcome reality punches me in the throat from out of nowhere to remind me that ‘Hey Stupid! You Can’t Trust Anyone Not To Betray You Eventually!’ – I begin to warily pick apart each and every relationship left standing – I grow cynical and defensive and suspicious of the people who haven’t yet abandoned me: my friends and family. I start to do this mindfuck loop in which I question everyone and everything as a direct result of the betrayal of one single maggot who was unworthy from day one…

I don’t care that it’s all over, I am starting to see that the douche bag did me a favor by showing such vivid colors in such undeniable hues; I have already sensed the calm easing its way back into each day from morning to night (no early morning dramatics; no more hours wasted on the equivalent to free therapy sessions beginning with my first cup of coffee); I already feel the tension unwrapping itself from around each eye and loosening its tightly wound grip from my shoulder blades…

Whatever it was, that “thing” I imagined up between us – it had become unhealthy very quickly for me – it stopped feeling good a while back – only felt bad when it felt like anything at all for months leading up to the final breaking point: the day that the line was drawn distinctly in the sand between he and I, permanently.

If they aren’t lifting you up, they’re holding you down…I had ceased to be lifted up any more…

But I knew leading up to that day also, deep down I knew I did not like who he is, what he is – the type of individual that he represents…I knew that, I had already seen and recognized, even communicated that fact to him.

“I don’t like two-faced people…” I declared one morning as he insistently talked shit about somebody who I, personally, happen to love quite fiercely – someone who he is all sugar and spice to in person, face to face. “I hope you know how telling it is that you would say those things about __________, given the circumstances; especially since you have no problem turning around and smiling to his face ten minutes later…”

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He somehow assured me way back then that I was wrong about him, about what I saw. But on some level deep down, if I’m being honest here, I have known since that time that he was no good. And I ignored my own instinct in order to suit my own more immediate needs: Human Closeness and Intimacy. How fucked up is that? Because in the end, he totally duped me and walked away snickering, finishing off that last mouthful of cake with victorious gulps…but I have truly learned a few new things from this otherwise worthless and useless exercise:

1) I still have major abandonment issues that I need to deal with.

2) When someone burns me, it burns…and it sets into motion cause and effect whether I like it or not.

3) I am still the Bigger Person, despite all of my efforts not to be.

4) I’m okay with my longstanding sentiment of:

If I am out of line for feeling for another human being (especially after considerable lengths of time in close quarters together), shoot me.

I don’t want to be a mutant human being all shallow and fake as Hell, wtf can I say?