Scratching Posts

Why romance one another at all, if it all just goes away in the end.  Why try?  At first there are love songs, poetry....effort!  Then nothing.  Nope.  Worse than nothing...self loathing, hatred of the sight of one another... and silence.

Do you think me odd if I sniff his glass when he's gone?  Ain't no sunshine when he's gone, ain't no liquor when we're through?  Better not...there are rules that require a followin'.  Rules man, rules like....well, I don't rightly know what the rules are in a situation like this.  What happens when two people give up on trying to make it work but have to live together?  I guess 'have to' and no other option seem valid presently.  I ain't leaving.  That would be a new record for me ya know....three moves in less than six months.  Terrible.  Horrifyingly dreadful more like it.  We've created such a mine field for love that nothing grows anymore.  We won't let it.  The first sign of green and the screaming begins.  We said things that will not be taken back.  Even if they were, they couldn't be.  Now we live as voluntary prisoners in a beautiful place with frustrated insurgents.  They creep in all stealth like then bomb the place to hell.  Messy fucking raw wounds are all that remain.

I see couples holding hands.  Fuck does that ever always get me.  They stroll about town with peaceful, knowing smirks....incapable of being affected by anything but one another.  Thrown by little and horny as all get out.  All you need is love remember....and separate zip codes.

We should have gotten scratching posts.  When things began to turn south, we could have each retired to our carpet covered kitty logs and sunk into them for a time instead of the other.

I was a bird in a cage;  Too afraid to flit about or even touch the ground.  I sat perched, waiting for his attention;  For a look or word that never came.  One day the cage broke free from it's tether to the ceiling and I came crashing down inside it.  No physical injury to be found.  The amount of brain damage incurred however was insurmountable.  Now I sit in this broken, bent, and mangled cage with my broken, bent and mangled mind.  Just sitting.  Not leaving.  Barely breathing.  Alone.

I am without my best friend, my lover.  We are roommates until other arrangements can be made.  All of the hard times out-weighed the good and all our words were misunderstood.  I put too much in of myself.  Like every man needs to save my life.  I store all of the things I see in myself in the other, hoping to have it returned to me.  I want it returned.  It doesn't happen so.  I give 'til I'm dry and sore and done.  I've determined life is an extended trip on a train.  Always moving forward and onward.  A few stops here and there to stretch and grab a snack, maybe have a conversation.  Connect.  Then off again.  There is only one direction this train moves in and that's the one towards death.  There is no going back.  Even if the one, true thing you were meant to do in this life was two miles back and you didn't capitalize...oh well.  It's gone.  It's done.  What's next.  Sickness and desertion permeates this fucking train.  Someone open a window, this heartache is stifling.

We've created such an impossible environment for love and connection to grow, let alone prosper.  It seems inconceivable to meet anyone anymore in any capacity as the whole world is constantly plugged in.  I'm part of the problem.  Here I write on a computer instead of talking it out with another human being.  I watch people on trains who don't speak to one another.  Barely glance at the other.  All on their cell phones, iPods.  Every second we grow closer to the great beyond and I long to share my passion of this world with someone.  How can I when we're all so obsessed with social media and the technological world?  How do you remove people from the matrix without Keanu!  Conversation is rendered obsolete when you can text and call and escape.  Technology is a tool, not life itself.  I suppose it starts with me.  I'll do my best to set an example and that's it.  What else is there if not effort?