Sunday, July 22, 2007

She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain When She Comes

Right now, I am a constant barrage of b-sides. Semi-catchy tunes on constant replay in my head, background noise to the carrousel I cannot seem to stay off. It sucks me back in with its bright lights and movement. I am tired of it. I want to have a life, go forward, be able to make plans and not have them thrown into the air like so many dust eddies. This chaos wears at me.
Yes, I realize that I precipitated a large amount of this. Yes, I admit it I have formulated and fomented this. Yes, I still insist this was necessary. A greater good will come from it in time, but I need some iota of resolution that will not crack as soon as I blink.
The invisible carpet under my feet has been pulled out again and I lay here, flat on my ass, wondering why? Why? Can krazy glue mend my shattered life, my shattered heart? Can anything? And krazy glue would be oh-so apropos. A fine line of cyanoacrylate which can put anything back together....or so they claim. A nasty gel which is poison to ingest or smell. It works when it works.
The bandage solutions that have worked prior are just that, bandages. They do not cover the wounds completely and they certainly do not mend. The wounds seep past the edges, jagged flesh and plasma ooze.
My evil dream of this morning still unsettles me, prevents sleep 20 hours later. "You're not going anywhere." It haunts me. I lay there, shivering, afraid to move. Surrounded by bleak, I stand at the mountain. I see no way through it nor a way around it. I have neither explosives to drill with nor struts to build with. And yet...I will find a way. I must.

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