Theres a wrench in the gear, causing a twisting, painful screeching that resounds through my head as the metal grinds the unfortunate tool to bits. It isn't part of the system.. It doesn't belong.
Smash it.
A wrench could halt the flow, could stop the chain that keeps middle class america's eyes focused on the road ahead.
But I'm tired of the road. Tired of its patient lines and orderly procedure. I welcome the middle finger past the glass walls of anonymity. Smiling and waving my happy apologies to those around me.
I seek connection. Something genuine and fierce and unstable. Something that sends my eyes wide and dialated with shocks of light and wails of darkness. Something to open me wide, pulling the ribs apart like a vultures wings and kissing my open beating heart. Sweat as thick as molassus.. skipped heartbeats and unstable bowels.
The feeling of fear, love, hate, and remorse. I even feel as if I am losing the physical, the touch no longer as poignant as cascading scalding water. Turning the dial up to feel something. To feel anything. Moving from the shower for the cold chill of suprise.
Does anyone else feel the lack of it?
No comments:
Post a Comment