I wonder how they do it, the normal, the average, the common. The simple, the stable, the content. I strive to be as he but end up annoyed. Like the flea, tiny, crawling, itching, biting bitching, moaning, getting nowhere quick flea. The pills they got me on are a doosies, up, down, up, down - I haven’t been so manic since I was 20. Back then I felt alive with skyrocket rides to the stars, every drop into an abyss that he himself would not punish one too, three, for the road I walk it so diligently.
How do they do it, day in, day out, turned around and upside down, marching like ants. As the cartoon plays in my head, their little green helmets, armed with twigs, facing down the enemy.
I’ve asked the question 262 times; I felt the feeling for far too many years wasting away on empty blue lines. I strap it down, hold fast, hold tight. Muscle my way through, legs bound in steel cages, waiting for the doctor to give the green light, so I can break free and run again once more.
262 times I wondered the question, answered it twice or maybe it was three. My stomach growls but I do not eat. I just want to feel something different and maybe starvation is what is needed. Maybe I eat too often, too much, too clean, maybe more Ho Ho’s is what’s needed.
I’ve sat still for 5 months, once removed. I burn the incense, read the books, say the prayers, clean the sheets, run the race, ride the wave, do it all and nothing soothes. I twitch when you are not looking, my right pinky stammers its way as the rarely used and uncared for.
How do they do it, day in, day out. How do they live and love and let it all be, how do they sit still, so still, like a mannequin, a statue if you will. Legs crossed, arms fold one into the other, the way the world folds in around me as I lose sight of what is or was and knowing nothing will ever be the same.
And would you want it the same, the bland taste of yesterday’s feed, my daily bread. It’s an off white world, a wet wool coat, my great aunts kiss to my cheek as I squirm in silence. I’d like to say I’m just fine, but truth be told I’m outa’ my mind and one more time I turn to my bike. My two wheeled wonder, my sanity on a seat, my happy go lucky racer to the outer reaches of life.
How do they do it, they are far greater than I in this arena called life, where the warriors fight and the meek cower, with the highly elite and well-educated clanking cups on the foreheads of us commoners. I wonder how long I will stay, how long I will sit till my time is up and I am fully cooked, from the inside out, microwaved eyes glazed over by the buzzing of the beat to the ringing in my ears.
How will I survive one more day, another night, survive these thoughts, these highs and lows, these crazy songs spinning in my head with nights of sleep showered in crazy dreams no one would ever want to see.
I’ve never been lost in my entire existence, to that proxy I’ve never been found. For one must know where they were, and I’ve been too many places to count. Lonely nights to the flicker of a tv, watching old reruns of a life I once lived, home movies made of electronic photos with rounded edges and faded smiles.
How do they do it, softly off to sleep, waking bright eyed and bushy tailed. They swing from stars as their bright white teeth sparkle in the moonlight. They all look so happy, so pleased… and thank you for such a wonderful life, for all the dreams I dreamt and the ones that came true. Gratitude a verb, as is love and longing, pain and sadness, and most any feeling you might feel.
...i’m just working at getting through the day, the night, the hour, the minute, with no pause for a commercial break, for orange slices and warm tap water. Sweat runs down my face with an emptiness in my head. Oh to be a child again, blind and dumb or is it smarter than all. 50 years too far beyond what was good for me, to scared and tattered, to tired and sore.
As I close the book, set down the pen, bow my head and close my eyes, remembering what surrender is.
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