Monday, March 16, 2009

Velvet Rope

Golden Rule.  Do unto others.  
I try.  I really do.

And so I made a choice, and I walked backwards through two years of dank, smelly tunnels and opened the door again.  And I forgave.

And it blew up in my face.

There's a lot of fear and pain down there.  And it bred a desperate, violent sort of recklessness.  But I get it.  And it never scared me. Still doesn't.  In fact, I know how to deal with it, and there was time when I was reveled in the thought of dealing with it, well, forever, I guess.  But a light went out and I can't turn it back on.  I totally believe that I was hearing the truth.  That there was a revelation.  You get it now.  But it's too late.  So.  It kills me, but I'm done.  I have to be.  

Right words, wrong face.  That's all I could think while I was speeding up the west side highway in the back of a cab.  Right words.  Deadly accurate.  Wrong eyes.  Wrong voice.  Throw something.  Shout.  Cry.  Smoke a slow stale cigarette.  Shrug it off.   

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