Sunday, February 15, 2009

It's All On Your Shoulders

I placidly sit within the confines of your miniscule vehicle, this pristine in color mobile chariot that transports me from one four-walled room of my mind to another. Mute and insecure, I listen as letters cascade off your plum tongue, the acidic juices depositing between your terrestrial shell and mine, collecting into an insurmountable river far too treacherous to traverse. Each letter of this body of water combines into words that spontaneously reorganize themselves into contradictory anagrams where “no relationship” can metamorphose into “partners”. And as you continue this torrential storm of opposing statements, I ardently attempt to construct an internal dam, one composed of muffled sighs, awkward retorts and supplicating gestures, all intended to pacify these symbols, letters and words that form these incomprehensible sentences. I am attempting to pacify you. And yet, the barrage and bombardment of searing words, those that recount your inability to yearn for me in a fashion accepted by the contract sealed with the touch of your weather cracked lips to mine, persists. Then, as seconds segue into minutes, I remain immobile, silent and defenseless, contemplating all of the viable weapons at my disposal—encompassing sharp adjectives, burning adverbs and perhaps even various indifferent possessive pronouns. This battle, this one sided verbal sparring could so easily be terminated by merely expelling a long, sinuous breath with one carefully selected amalgam of letters affixed to it. If I so choose, I could expel a quivering breath from which a being replete with appendages, idiosyncrasies and flesh shall flourish, one that could swim through this river separating us and deposit upon your peach tone shoulders the following:

I shall not linger.
I soon shall depart.
Then, your hunt for me will be futile.

After such words have deposited upon your riverbank like silt and waste would, decaying like an animal’s carcass, you will see—it’s all on your shoulders; it is all for you to collect so as to construct a fortified bridge. However, my strength falters and this river filled with decomposing words that once resembled ribbons of communication undulating in diaphanous waves, overflows. The you and I that could have easily trickled into us, drowns. Now, all that remains are two pallid corpses, disfigured and mangled, floating to the surface of these waters, unrecognizable.

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