empty tongue

i came into this room. put on joy division. got all excited. cause it makes me nostalgic. joy division is the color of the sky, and it made the sky interesting. because the sky has been very boring. a week straight of pure grey will do that. but joy division is the color of the sky, and it makes it interesting. and here i sit. coffee in my “kentucky: beautiful horses & fast women” mug. drinking coffee from said mug. and i haven’t a thing to say. all prepped and propped as i am. i have nothing to say. no poem. no prose. no emotion. just jitters. perhaps my soul has traveled to the backseat of that shitty brown 1983 escort i used to make fun of. he had an ET sheet strewn about the backseat. why is there a sheet in the backseat of your car? no answer. why, come on? no answer. i still don’t know. he was smoking a joint or had just smoked a joint, so he didn’t want to talk. i thought about kissing. so innocent. so excited. joy division played through the speakers. it was foggy out. we were driving down auburn road, heading east. it was spooky. there was enough time left in the night for me to not worry about getting home, though i’d get home late, of course. he’d yell at me that it was my fault and that my parents would be mad at him. i’d say, who cares? he’d say, i do. i’d say, whatever. he’d say nothing.

i never questioned the pot smoking and he wouldn’t be the first one to coerce me into smoking it. he didn’t want to be “the one.” he didn’t want to have that responsibility. that goes for a lot more than getting high. 

you know, i could sit here and listen to the cure and joy division all damn day. and pretend i … well. last night i had “the dream” again. you know the one. i’m back in high school, trying to find “him”… he who i never spoke to. he who i was terrified of. when i got home in my dream, i rifled around and found my yearbook so i could stare at pictures of him. his face. him. preoccupied by other things. anything but me. always something or someone other than me. i know how he is. with his one-track mind. he’d deny that. he’d get angry with me.

he gets mad at me when i predict things. because they’re always correct. i should keep my ideas to myself. this “gift” is a curse. i should “know” something, and say nothing. mostly, that’s what i do. i should have done that when his grandma died. 

this just came to me: fast actin’ tinactin. because i took a 325MG tablet of ferrous sulfate and my stomach started twisting up almost immediately. also, i have a gel ice pack on my shoulder. i quit my job and my body started to revolt. the current issue is a raging rotator cuff. i should be wheeling around this house in an ergonomic office chair with lumbar support. that’s where i sat for 12 years on the 33rd floor of the nbc tower. now i’m undoing it. first it was a week of anxiety attacks (new identity), and now it’s a revolution of inflaming body parts. it’s making its way out. 

i may throw up. this would be poetic justice to a month of pain.

5 thoughts on “empty tongue

  1. FYI, I’m “liking” your writing not your pain. Are you using muscle rub? I’d cover my body with it at all times if possible. And maybe stop running so much; switch to something else. You can’t do the same workout all the time, sweet pea. What about switching to floor work for a while, like abs/legs/yoga? And dancing around more might loosen up those stiff muscles. I’m taking a few days off from the elliptical because it’s causing me pain. The leg and butt pain is good; the foot and back pain is not.

    I really wish I could treat you; I know I could heal you.

    • haha. how about you cover me in muscle rub and we do some floor work? you knew that was coming. oooo, coming. god, they just keep coming. oh. no. i. didn’t. oops, i did it again.

      i think you could heal me too, actually. i “know” it.

      i’m doing elliptical and running. i swear it’s the chair i sat in! i’m constructed to sit in it. it’s gone, so i’m falling off of a cliff.

      • Perhaps one day, my dear. But today it is raining. Play in the rain with me?

        Get a new chair, love. Your husband will buy you anything you want.

  2. I just saw your tag! So true. ESP is actually logic. Just paying attention to things and making deductions. As in deducing things, not making quantities smaller. Dequantifying. If I ing. Defying. De-fie-ing. Defiling. Defilling. What is in the filling? Something nasty, I’m sure.

    Just trying to make you smile. 😉

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