the things you say...

the things you say...

i have fallen out of footfall with myself. there is mean-ness in my heart, hard and round. loving kindness is lost to me. long gone. i am startled, still, by the normal. the functioning everyday. discussions about cook ware, furnishings, aquisitions, leave me cold, head numb with the tedium. but i do recall that easy living. that shady entry into the arena of the ordinary, where we do as we're told, buy as instructed, toil, earn to spend and spend on objects made to break within months, objects, plastic cast in moulds with the specific aim, so it seems of travelling, hurtling, to the dump. land fill. buying stuff that is, as it is purchased, recognised as shit, shit for the landfill. see, i do not care. cannot distinguish, have no hankering, want nothing. nothing that i can buy. it makes no odds. i can buy and not care, i can not buy and not care, where's the difference?

oh to discuss and mean it. to see and desire. to want. to care. my eyes are glazed over. there is no room in me for such trivialities. i hate the people who can laugh and be trivial, can enjoy the throw away, can sit and waste hours, days, in prescriptive reveries. don't they know about time? is it just me?

you, i cannot buy you and  have an imagining that you will be mine. you. i want you and cannot decipher my reasoning. i try. is it love that i want? it's not that. it is what? you, so impartial, so far away, hard to reach, hard to fathom. you know about time, i know it. you know about me, i know it. are you the piece that will slot right in?

so far away with your notion of distance. i stretch out my hand, again and again, try to pull you across the chasm, bring you closer. you resist, ignoring the palpable warmth of these extended fingers, snaffling to grab and hang on to your cold, red, bony-ness.