Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.



Monday, July 25, 2011

no godforsaken happy ending

i've been reading stories of people in pain. my back often hurts so much, i find it hard to sit up straight as i type this. my pinky toe, my fucking pinky toe, stubbed itself on the way to market, i stumble and stammer down sidewalks. a couple of tools mock me as they walk past, where's my audience, my friends, my courage? i'm too worn at this point. i think to myself, "one day i'll just turn & clock one of these fuckin kids" but i also then wonder just what i would do. pain iS a fucking parasite. it eats away at my energy for retaliation on this cruel world from time to time. i don't always let it in, let it win, but then there's the living unbearable. i don't show it at parties. i hide it away at dinner with parents, mine or otherwise. i can't take how it makes me feel to bring it up amongst more than 2 people. i haven't been crying. most times, i silently thank a bad stubbed toe. deflection. my neck stiffens as i read a zine about pain. i have friends. we talk about pains sometimes. mostly emotional, the physical brought in when it gets too bad to go unnoticed. i realize most won't think of this as poetry, i realize most can't see my pain. i write it out, walk it off, scream words for liberation from scum cells, biting away at even our pains. i agonize over the agonizing. i can't shake this right now. pain can take years to get through. or just minutes. i often consider relativity as a possible middleground. this iS part of my pain deflection. i can talk better to this screen with my own thoughts booming through the loudspeaker in my head, only low hums of electricity and throbbing toe under icepack, than i can to my best friend. i take comfort, physical comfort rarely. this effects me psychologically constantly. iS it OK to be shifting about while this person speaks? can i risk staying up another 3 hours of drifting around til 4 in the morning and knowing where or in what position i'll be able to sleep tonight, if i can indeed sleep tonight? the political correct aren't this careful with decisions. i budget. i hate fucking budgets. i hate budget cuts. i hate budgeting my cash. i hate cash. i hate budget rental cars & moving trucks. they're fucking ugly. but i budget. my energy. i budget my fucking energy. so many false copes, so little tolerance left. i go and get it popped back into place. it comes undone. i call you. my tone gives away my pain. you're in seattle. i don't want my fucking tone to send pain all the way to fucking seattle. goddammit, i wonder what has worked before. i know some things. things i could try. but i'm not used to this toe pain. this toe pain iS new pain. not knew pain. i think of the bath. my one surefire release from pain. it's sheer overuse. my general attitudes and how they would change without pain. and it's chronic. i used to love chronic. early 90's picnics. green stuff. herb. parliament funk samples and ill stories from the hood. not supposed to be disease. not supposed to be endless pain. not supposed to mean can't sit down, can't stand up. fuck all. i am a happy fucking person most of my day.
but this iS no godforsaken happy ending.

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