Pain (Suspension of Disbelief)

You grind it
Ornate it
You decorate and paint it
Get louder
Get higher
A cataclysmic mire
Then shake it
Repeat it
Now you begin to feel it

If you try to bookend the pain
And be fool enough to think that makes it go away
Ten seconds more will prove to you
The truest pain lies true in you

Silence turns into howling wail
Distorted sounds of midnight rail
All morning wishy-washy
Cries turn into sea of gushing
Sediments of those stupid tears
Squint and they are chandeliers
Hardened by the tides of years
A century till they disappear

In the middle of a family feud
An awful way of breaking free
No one can tell you how to feel
Not anyone, even if it’s not real
Remorsefulness is not the key
To end the pain, but today it’ll have to do.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Tropic of Cancer

Image
  As fate would have it, I am currently living the somewhat harsh realism of a cancer patient’s loved one. It has been a very long time since I even considered writing anything here. Since the last time, I have issued eight booklets of erotic short stories, one of which was actually based on a short story I wrote on this site, and a poetry book, all of them in print form only. It felt like the next natural step for me, something I really wanted to do, to be part of the writing community at last, with something tangible. I participated in an art exhibit with the erotica series and wrote a new piece for the event. Anyone can tell you, except huge writers who make a de facto realistic living from their books perhaps, that the come down is steep and plummeting after the show is over. The books aren’t selling too well. The exhibit succeeded in raising interest in my body and image, not in what I was actually trying to do. Which I guess is fair. I have used my image and my body and m
Read more

One More, With Feeling – What Is Love If Not Shopping For Vintage Clothes?

I am a clotheshorse. I can’t help it. It’s a compulsion. I love clothes, and more specifically, vintage clothes. I’m the best friend of all the vintage clothes store proprietors in my zip code, and further, and I find it an interesting footnote in my life story that one of my best friends in the world runs a boutique specializing in Italian fashion. I didn’t use to be so madly into clothes in my twenties. I have, though, always liked to dress well, and my loved ones know all about my crazy Madonna period as too young a kid to be wearing a grown woman’s sexy lace lingerie and gel in my hair, let alone rosaries and crucifixes and a genuine leather biker jacket, which, I must add, was small enough to fit a young girl. Getting the jacket was one of the few pleas that my parents heard and acknowledged and accepted, and the jacket was never worn outside the house. Not because it was too raunchy or anything like that, but because it was too precious. It was almost exactly like the one sh
Read more

Urgent Mothering

Image
I don’t have kids. I have always known I wouldn’t have any. I knew having kids was something that never interested me in the least, and also that I would try and prevent the event of my pregnancy by all possible means for as long as I was in a position of that danger. I have never cared much about children. I don’t care if they are cute or heart-melting or smell incredible. I have tried sniffing a newborn’s head. I got nothing. For me, it’s every man for himself. Always has been. I have given the walking papers to every man who has wanted me to mother them, every one of them. Can’t look after yourself? Man, you need to leave. The only exception to the rule is the animal kingdom, and even with those guys, I categorically oppose the usage of the verb mother. Markus likes to call Hanks Obi’s dad, and I guess he kind of is – maybe the term and using it comes more easily to Markus because he is a father himself and he has that bond in blood to someone. Still, I never use the term mo
Read more

Driver's License, Liquor License & License to Kill

Image
  What are you doing?! Just get in there, now! You know, the brakes are there for a reason. Watch out! You are the most selfish, most self-centered person I have ever had the misfortune to meet! You’re holding onto the wheel all wrong! You need to back up more you’ll get a fine. Get the fuck out of here! I hate you you fucking bitch! You try living with a tumor that’s going to kill you. Oh, that’s right it’s my tumor it’s my fucking tumor! Get out! You are nothing but shit, you never take responsibility for anything, you never have, you just live in your Never-Never Land thinking everyone will live happily ever after! Why do you always need to destroy everything! You’ve ruined everything! Shut up, you’re disgusting! You never think of anyone but yourself! It's fucking over between us! Well it’s your fault I’m yelling every bad thing I have learned I have learned from you you goddamn bitch! It’s all because of you! Well, fuck you back! Oh that’s right, blame me, it isn’t like I’m dy
Read more

Get Back, Honky Cat – Rocketwoman

Image
Before having Rocketman recommended to me by a workmate who had seen it at a screening for the press and loved it dearly and told me she thought I would, too, I mostly associated Elton John with my sister. When I was little, she would make these mixtapes for me from whatever songs were big hits just then mixed with some classics, using special Japanese cassette tapes, pink and transparent and adorable. I would examine the hand-written song lists carefully in my Lanzarote novelty fringe top, wearing my neon-colored shades bought from the only punk shop in town, while listening to the tapes over and over in my silver boombox. I knew Crocodile Rock like the back of my hand, because it was on one of those tapes, a special Summer Mix tape. I remember staying at my sister’s place and listening to her vinyl copy of Elton John’s Greatest Hits, the blue-tinted album with the man in his Sacrifice look on the cover I think every teenager and young adult back then had in their collection. I k
Read more

Floor it! – Keanu Reeves’ Slow Hurry into Magnificence

Image
Since the honorable Mr. Reeves is taking the Internet by what appears not a mere storm, but a hurricane, and the moment just a couple of weeks ago, when he replied to an overwhelmed fan’s breathless declaration with an even more breathtaking response has gone viral, I think just the one piece on the man about the John Wick franchise found below is simply not enough. Now I know every girl in town likes to think she is Keanu Reeves’ number one fan, and I am entering the competition at an awkward stage, right in between the aftershocks of the huge blow that was the Cyberpunk 2077 press conference, the release of Toy Story 4, John Wick 3 playing in theaters, and the success of Netflix’s Always Be My Maybe, but here goes anyway. The title of this story is a bit misleading, since ever since Keanu Reeves started getting bigger roles on screen he has been showered with attention. Though not always complementary on his acting skills - I myself remember a huge cover story in Suosikki
Read more

Buffy Reboot Did Happen, After All - And It’s John Wick, Everybody!

Image
This just in: Breaking News from our bloodhoundy news team! By now you must know, dear friends, that we are all dog lovers here, so not only is the adjective entirely appropriate, but it also gives a bit of that seedy underbelly feel to our intro here, since seedy underbelly is what it’s all about, talking about the John Wick franchise. You ready? Ok here we go! My Point-By-Point Elaboration on Why John Wick Is Buffy the Vampire Slayer Reincarnated: Here is all the evidence we have been able to garner so far. Feel free to make it into a drinking game if you wish the next time you watch all three movies in a row. And the Buffy details? Well you know I have watched the entire series so many times I can’t even say, so while with Mr. Wick here I can’t break it down all the way to lines and seconds, with Buffy, I most certainly can. And if you didn’t catch the latest John Wick pic at the cinema? If you are a Buffy neophyte? Then warning, warning, danger, Will Robinson, because t
Read more

Eat Your Artichoke, Lorelai

Some food stories. As we speak, Kristi Carlson, the author of the warm-hearted, all kinds of fabulous, and so cheerful Eat Like a Gilmore cookbook, the title of which I paraphrased as one of the labels on this blog, is collecting funds to kickstart her second Gilmore Girls related assembly of recipes. Now, I haven’t exactly tried any of the foods on the existing book yet, because I’m such a dang-a-lang and a whatchamacallit who buys a cookbook and then fails to make anything from it, but I have tagged a lot of pages with pretty neon-colored post-its, marveled at the fun of just browsing through it, and discussed having a Gilmore Girls feast, inspired by Carlson, with at least three or four people. While I have already shared earlier the one recipe I have mastered in my life on this blog and have nothing else to add to the world of gourmands but my undying enthusiasm and cookbook browsing, I will now proceed to share some of my food related stories from the days of both yore and p
Read more

Hijinks, Party of One! (The Woman Standing in the Middle of the Road, Holding A Bowl Full of Fish)

Image
  Last night, I had a dream about Markus. This is a very extraordinary happenstance, since I have never before dreamed about him, at all. This isn’t unusual for me in the least. I seldom, if ever, have had any dreams about my boyfriends during the time I was with them. I don’t know what that’s about. No sex dreams, not any kind of dreams, even though with Markus I went through an extraordinarily long period of new relationship lust, and as a unit we have proceeded to go through an even longer tunnel of extremely aggressive fighting. We yell, we throw things, we slam doors. We break things, we know exactly which button to push and hit exactly where it hurts. Once, Markus ripped both his notebook, and his expensive pen, to shreds, because he was just so mad at me. I have slammed a door so vivaciously it almost came off its hinges. I, in a fit of gargantuan rage, upended the kitchen table to make a point, and took devilish delight hearing the roaring crash when it came down on the hard
Read more