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' anada "Piece" 07 feb '
' 281 by Gloomchen 2001 '
` `
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I'm laughing on the inside, smiling sideways and doubling down. What
other option is there? I flounder about, wiggling this way and that. You
have captured me, but I still stagger. I'm not about to walk on fours for
this one. Giggle and jiggle, but what else can I do. It's the fuck-me
eyes, they keep doing their thing and leaving me to hang off-center on an
abandoned wall of stone.
It's mazes and connect the dots, it's seek and find and hide and
seek. And your glasses are too thick to discover, but that's okay, you're
already viewing the half-knit dawn of someday soon. I'm seeing black mesh
jumpsuits and a velcro tennis shoe. And a smurf. How's that for happy?
All about understanding? Is it a puzzle at all? I speak the froth
that wedges into my passages and worry about interpretation later. But
integrity, I don't know, does it even matter? Who can detail the callous
bent half tampon masturbation pleasure centered bile chamber meaning behind
the words? If you're thinking me, you're looking through cockle-eyed lenses
of stone.
I don't want it to be some fun jaunt rendezvous... this is my life.
I can't grab one piece from the molten void and form it into the cracks of
my pink puddle indiscretion. It has to be a complete sculpted mass, kneaded
but not forced, bent but not welded. You can't take a dip in the slurry,
you have to use the clay you have.
Having spoken those words, I'm hoping I can fit my square peg of
wants into your round hole of existence. My peg is pretty large, but it can
morph. The game in the middle, it's spinning the dice the other way, but
I could always slap my hand down. All it would take was just one reach.
Just one touch of my whole-hearted hammer induced happiness. I hate to say
it, but maybe I'd just rather stay pointed. Or so I think. Or so I tell
myself.
Slit it open, stir it around, sew it back up. I know you will. And
all I'll do is wait here for it.
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` anada281 by Gloomchen (c) 2001 anada e'zine `
