Revisiting, again

It’s funny how easy it is for you to seem like you don’t even care. Not funny in the natural sense of the word, obviously, but funny how you made it seem like you ever did at all. I can’t tell though, did you?

Reading someone else’s mind isn’t easy, although I thought I was good at it before. Now? I’m convinced I don’t know what anyone is thinking at any moment no matter how obvious they’re being. You’ve really ruined every shred of confidence I ever had in being with other people. Maybe that’s my own fault. Which is that fucked up kind of funny again because we we’re never really together anyways.

You really do make it look easy though, forgetting me. I wish I was as good as it as you are, but that’ll be just another thing that I fail at. I’ll remember you and ache for it until the light in my eyes go dark.

Maybe you were just trying to get rid of me, that’s what I keep circling back to. You had a taste and the sweetness stroked your palate enough to keep you coming back for a little while, then something happened. Was it too sweet or not enough? I often think it was too much, that seems to be the theme of you when it comes to me.

If I’m too much go find less,” as the phrase goes.

You didn’t even wait for me to say it.

Not so fast

I thought I forgot you for a minute there.  You hid behind the random existence of every day life.  You hid behind the small part of me that gets obsessive-compulsive in certain situations.  That just-out-of-view blind spot that I have.  You hid there and I thought I had forgotten about you.

And then I catch a reminder and smirk to myself.

“No way,” I tell myself.

You’ve seeped too deep into my skin for me to just forget about you like that.  That would be too easy and we’ve never been easy.

Drunken Poets Tell The Truth

“I favor eating your pussy to all others, dear Ruby,” the old man exclaimed in slurred words while leaning over papers at his desk.

“Charming,” replied the young woman from the bed a few feet away, “it’s amazing those words of yours aren’t published and plastered across newspapers far and wide.”

He sneered back at her, “same could be said of your cunt.”

She rolled over and put her back to him.  The sheet bunched up between her legs and balled against her chest.  She hugged it tight for comfort instead of warmth.  The raging fire in the furnace was enough to keep the entire street warm, yet he kept the window open all winter as well.

“I think better in between temperatures,” he would tell anyone who asked, and there were plenty.  He’d invite people up to his room to drink beyond closing hours of the bar he lived above.  There would be women as well, prostitutes, he would spend whatever money on he had that he didn’t imbibe.  There were no shortage of people in and out of his tiny apartment.

Tonight it was Ruby.  That wasn’t her real name but she hadn’t used her real name in so long that it may as well have been.  She had heard about the old man that lived above the bar and all of the stories that went along with him.  His eccentricities.  How he would rant and drink and give a girl whatever she wanted if she seemed interested.  His bluntness and the bit of mean streak that he carried, it was mostly words but he could look threatening if he wanted to.  Nobody ever claimed he harmed them though.

He also had money, which was the most important thing to a woman selling her body for sexual favors.  It really was the only thing that mattered.

The old man always paid and he usually paid more than the agreed upon amount.

“He’s a great tipper,” the other girls told Ruby when she got the call.

“He’ll fuck you, he’ll drink, he’ll rant and when he falls asleep you just take the money and slip out like nothing.  There’s no pleading for more time or trying to set up another date.  It’s a quick transaction and usually doesn’t even last the whole night.”

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Accidents are nobodies fault

I got hit by a car once.  It’s amazing, the feeling of it.  You never really know what that kind of force is like until you experience it.

Yes, you can run into a wall and fall down.  You can try to push a tractor and admire its ability to not move.  But to have something fling you through the air so effortlessly while its barreling out of control is impressive.  If it wasn’t so dangerous I’d recommend it to everyone simply so they can know how little they can defend themselves in every day life.

The pain is excruciating as well.  It’s fantastic the amount of hurt it can cause with little or no damage to itself.  The most impressive part is how it can seemingly carry on as normal while you’re left clinging to life support in its wake.  The after effects are catastrophic to you and a minor annoyance to it.

I recovered, obviously.  As fragile as us bone bags are we can recover from a lot, even a being hit by a car and thrown on the concrete.  Our bones heal and our organs settle right back into place.  Cuts and bruises fade.  One of the few similarities between the car and us feeble-bodied beings is the long standing possibility of never being the same if we’re hit hard enough.
We may carry on with a limp and never walk the same way again.  There might be some kind of internal damage that causes a lot of things that we did before to be altered.  Our brains might even be shook up enough that they don’t snap and sparkle in the way they once did.
And the car?  The car might need repairs.  A windshield that needs to be refitted and never sits right against the wipers.  The front end welded back into place that now has a clicking sound when it’s driven.  Overall performance, like us sacks of skin, will have to be re-evaluated.  It’s funny how we can be so similar yet so different, machines and humans.

Of course it wasn’t a car that hit me, it was you.  You stared at me and I froze to like a deer in the headlights.  I don’t know if you steered into me or if you were as out of control as I was stuck but you hit me head on and I went flying through the air.  It was a light feeling of wondrous glee.  I couldn’t remember a time when I was happier than when I was falling for you, and then I hit the pavement.

Falls can never last forever, the ground is always waiting.  You crashed into me and broke everything.  Even after that I tried to get better.  I recovered with a limp.  My brain didn’t quite work as well as it did though and there seemed to be little scaring on you.  You drove along as if nothing was the matter.  It was incredible.

You hit me and I got better and you carried on.  Then I felt the lingering effects.  The limp started to hurt.  My head started to ache.  You drove off and nothing was the same.  You crashed into me and wrecked my sense of normal.  Maybe I did some damage to you too but you never showed it.  You still don’t.

The funny thing I found after all of this is maybe you’re just a bad driver.