you're an accident
waiting to happen
I remember, now, what this is like. Just today, I remember what this was like. It's that thing that's like good but in its goodness it's a lot like bad. Cause the fluttery and the skip, that's good but it also tells the tale of a heart condition. That feeling, that one where I'm talking and you're laughing and then it's still and hard as a rock? I almost wish it were an uncomfortable silence. Because it isn't, and then later I wonder why anyone would let that go. Every day, letting that go and walking around separately looking for it. But you are not looking for it. I forgot that part.
I forget a lot of things. I forget that I am important until they tell me. I forget that I am funny until I can see your fillings. I forget that sometimes you cancel what you are doing to come sit with me on a very, very uncomfortable bench and ask me not to go back in. I forget that sometimes it can be just, good. Just very good. I forget that I am happy, except that I know that I am, I just forget.
Today that other one said that he had never seen that before. Seen what? That look. Which look? The one that I wish I could see on my wife's face just once, and I have got to see the guy that did that to you.
Oh, that look. Cause I don't know what that look is like from the outside, but I know what's it's like on the inside, and I think that I have seen it on your face and I wonder if it's for me, now and then. Because I imagine that a lot of us wish you wore that for us, but maybe you wear it for you because you remember that you are happy. I know what that's like on the inside, and it's the same thing that is a lot like good but maybe a lot more like bad, because when you feel that, when you get hold of it and it's sitting in your chest and your belly and presenting itself to the world in the way you walk and talk and even the look on your face, when you get hold of that it is hard to let it go. A piece of glass left out on the beach. Waiting, waiting to be a piece of glass covered in blood, confused as I stumble off to the first aid tent. Because I want that to be for me, and I know that it is not, that it is simply you and that is why this, this is simply you. Why you make me feel this when no one else can. It's a warning sign, yeah? Cause I know, and I know and I know and I know where it goes and I know that where it it takes me is not where it takes you, and even if we are still sitting on this bench in two years, and even if we are both wearing our selves in public, I know that what it feels like on the inside is not necessarily what it looks like to you. It is something, but not everything. It is something different, something rare, but still something that I would risk for a shot at synching our respective obviousness. Because you, you, you make me feel the part like good and forget that the flip side is bbbbbbbad. You make me forget that ANYthing, ever, is bad. Because really, walking around with that feeling, it seems, for those moments, that no matter how bad things are and have been and could be, it is all right. Because I have the remedy, and it is in my head and in my hands and people can see it from a mile away and it is happiness. Eventually, I am sure, I will reach a point where I can make myself that happy, that I can be that and feel that without an outside influence, and when I get there I will know, a little, what it feels like to be where you are. And I hope that the people that I love, the people that I care about, I hope that they are as happy with me as I am with you. And when I see that on them I will remember what it feels like, and what you feel like, and I will be that much happier myself.
I remember, now, what this is like. Just today, I remember what this was like. It's that thing that's like good but in its goodness it's a lot like bad. Cause the fluttery and the skip, that's good but it also tells the tale of a heart condition. That feeling, that one where I'm talking and you're laughing and then it's still and hard as a rock? I almost wish it were an uncomfortable silence. Because it isn't, and then later I wonder why anyone would let that go. Every day, letting that go and walking around separately looking for it. But you are not looking for it. I forgot that part.
I forget a lot of things. I forget that I am important until they tell me. I forget that I am funny until I can see your fillings. I forget that sometimes you cancel what you are doing to come sit with me on a very, very uncomfortable bench and ask me not to go back in. I forget that sometimes it can be just, good. Just very good. I forget that I am happy, except that I know that I am, I just forget.
Today that other one said that he had never seen that before. Seen what? That look. Which look? The one that I wish I could see on my wife's face just once, and I have got to see the guy that did that to you.
Oh, that look. Cause I don't know what that look is like from the outside, but I know what's it's like on the inside, and I think that I have seen it on your face and I wonder if it's for me, now and then. Because I imagine that a lot of us wish you wore that for us, but maybe you wear it for you because you remember that you are happy. I know what that's like on the inside, and it's the same thing that is a lot like good but maybe a lot more like bad, because when you feel that, when you get hold of it and it's sitting in your chest and your belly and presenting itself to the world in the way you walk and talk and even the look on your face, when you get hold of that it is hard to let it go. A piece of glass left out on the beach. Waiting, waiting to be a piece of glass covered in blood, confused as I stumble off to the first aid tent. Because I want that to be for me, and I know that it is not, that it is simply you and that is why this, this is simply you. Why you make me feel this when no one else can. It's a warning sign, yeah? Cause I know, and I know and I know and I know where it goes and I know that where it it takes me is not where it takes you, and even if we are still sitting on this bench in two years, and even if we are both wearing our selves in public, I know that what it feels like on the inside is not necessarily what it looks like to you. It is something, but not everything. It is something different, something rare, but still something that I would risk for a shot at synching our respective obviousness. Because you, you, you make me feel the part like good and forget that the flip side is bbbbbbbad. You make me forget that ANYthing, ever, is bad. Because really, walking around with that feeling, it seems, for those moments, that no matter how bad things are and have been and could be, it is all right. Because I have the remedy, and it is in my head and in my hands and people can see it from a mile away and it is happiness. Eventually, I am sure, I will reach a point where I can make myself that happy, that I can be that and feel that without an outside influence, and when I get there I will know, a little, what it feels like to be where you are. And I hope that the people that I love, the people that I care about, I hope that they are as happy with me as I am with you. And when I see that on them I will remember what it feels like, and what you feel like, and I will be that much happier myself.
posted by machine central at 2:56 PM
1 Comments:
Why did I read this a few days ago but not really READ it until now? You will be hearing from me because I have questions. Like who what when where why?
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