schizoidali

schizoidali

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bones crackling. minds numbing. the thoughts of youth succumbing to ancient days of tooth decay and rambling chats on porch swings with tea in hand and babies at your feet wondering how your toes curve and bend into the warped wood beneath them.

like bras on a mermaid or armor on a slug they crack and slacken and enact a sense of false security in a world full of dull prince charmings and too heavy boots clambering on wet pavement after a rainstorm of regrets.

My shoulders are strung to the ceiling with tape that you place there before you were gone. My head's come unstrung and I feel so unsung with the thoughts that I know are deep in there. I can't write this song; the melody's bare; the chords aren't strung along with a purpose.

The sweater's on the floor. The cats found the errant thread. Now the sweater's become a vest. I ate up all the food. The cupboards are all so bared. Now the kitchen's become a graveyard.

knitting all along with the thread hanging low and the cats keep unraveling the sleeves. this sweater's getting ruined and the floor is a mess but i keep going and keep going all the same.

Like goosebumps lifted on your arm or razor burn on the inside of your thigh rough and raw raised and reticent you slept and fought and loved and stopped until your heart warmed to the challenge.

The motivation is there. The words are lying just beneath the skin, resting above veins like so much subdermal fat. Tearing it open and screaming it to the skies with dull blades and toothpicks is the only way to get it out and to heal.

key

Carved. Emblazoned. Decorated. Hung. Dead. Cold. Magnetic. Poised. Grasped. Turned. Translated. Corrected. Used. Cobbled.

It seems like what was secret to my heart was known to everyone else's. It seems like the truth I wanted was unknown to everyone else. It seems that the thoughts I felt were goosebumps to everyone else. It seems like what I loved was what everyone else hated.

They were all about the room, plastered in sad arrays to celebrate the aging and the dying and the wilting all around. The cats tore them down and batted them about the floor. The joy was magnetic.

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writing since 2010 · 21 entries · 19 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Annie showed up.

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19days written

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on this day 14 years ago

Annie wrote about secret
“It seems like what was secret to my heart was known to everyone else's. It seems like the truth I wanted was unknown to everyone else. It seems that the thoughts I felt were goosebumps to everyone …”

the words Annie reaches for

nowthoughtslyingbeepcatsfloorsweater'swishlongerjoymindhungdyingmotivationwordssupport