Problem: Breaking Up. [this is only the beginning]

written: Monday, September 24, 2007


Problem: Breaking Up.
Current mood: sick

You grab at the sky like you could build a ladder out of clouds,
but you don't even know how far you want to climb.
It's Christmas day where the presents melt from sitting too close
to a string of lights before you even wake up out of bed.
Your face puckers while you eat your lifetime supply of sugarless
chocolate and you're frustrated when the salt shaker just doesn't
give it the right taste.
You know the problem, yet you keep eating.

But how do you know what it tastes like?
You imagine the sensation of walking around the desert
in stilleto pumps, but you only recognize sand in your flip-flops.
You think you have the world memorized,
but then you realize you have your sunglasses on.
You raised a kitten who bites through your skin,
yet you won't stop holding her.
You wonder why you shop for new tennis shoes
when your feet are scarred and blistered.
You know the problem, yet you keep walking.

You miserably eat bugs in the corner when there is
a box of piza on the coffee table. You keep on
filling your face, hoping the crunch will eventually
stop making you gag, while your eyes fill with tears,
and the aroma from hot pizza dwells in your brain.
You exercise on the stationary bike and wonder
why you still need training wheels.
You lay down in the middle of the interstate
and pray no car will come today.
You know the problem is coming, yet you keep faithfully lying down.

Most of the time, cars do come: Hopeless.
Slowly, the box of pizza gets close enough,
and you're more willing than ever to take a bite.
You stand up and walk toward the coffee table: Guilt.
You try new tennis shoes on for size: Embitterment.
You lose the sunglasses: Blinded.
You realize that salt isn't what the chocolate is missing: Loss.
Me being the so-called "you:" Isn't easy.