A Decent Animal
<< 2:45 a.m. - Thursday, Jun. 10, 2004 >>
And,
it�s everything to do with this silence
I can�t break.
These stanzas won�t flow.
These words won�t come.
I have to wring them out of stale air.

I can�t get my jaws open. I can�t talk to you today; or anyone else, without the fear of being judged.

I�ve been wondering recently what it is that I�ve spent years talking about, because suddenly none of it matters to me. I�ve been feeling so silent and dull. Maybe I don�t actually know how to talk to people past questioning every one of their actions into mundane bliss. Is it my turn to ask myself my own probing questions, or just shut the fuck up and let things flow? I preach that so often, but hell, I don�t think I ever really do it.

Down in Alex�s basement I ended up staring at the ceiling and all the tiny colored Christmas lights. No one noticed the tears pool in my eyes and slide off my weak face, and I�m glad. Who I became down here makes me aqueous. I still don�t know where I am going in this life, and I can�t seem to decide if it even matters at all. We always think our friends will persevere together, that our bond is stronger than any that has existed before it; and now I don�t know. It�s that whole sort of thing about feeling invincible in your youth. I�m watching us break already. The impossible is happening.

I just don�t want to leave this little world I�m so safe in. I don�t want the summer�s last ember to be filled with everyone saying goodbye. I�ll still be here.