Self Help for a Fucknuckle
Put your dukes up. It's fighting time...
I realise that I can be a soppy fucknuckle at times. Hopelessly romantic when it would be more appropriate to become a flipped out psycho maniac. The best I can do is say something slightly caustic, then turn around and ask to be forgiven, yet all I really want to do is slam a door and mean it.
Why can't I flip out and totally lose it. Is there a way I can disconnect the safety mechanism that stops me from becoming a momentary bitch and hotwire my temper to fly off the handle when it's a legitimate opportunity.
I have these fantasies...
I have you by the collar, pushing you against the wall, my eyes are narrow like miniture letter box slots. My brow is so furrowed that I could hold cigarettes in the creases.
You're scared. This is the side of me that has been percolating these last few years, made up of all the things I swallowed.
I swallowed them because I thought they were not valid.
Talk about the ultimate silly bugger, that would be me, too retarded to realise just how valid each bubble of hurt and annoyance was/is.
I get my mouth really close to your ear, so close you can here me breathe.
"You Suck"
That's all I have to say, but I want my body language to convey just how much I believe it. I want you to feel the seething Anger that runs the channels of my being, a vibration that rattles your teeth.
The truth however is not that I am angry at anyone inparticular, actually I take that back, I am angry at me.
Angry that I never stood up for myself in the face of gross unfairness. That I never acted on my gut instincts, always placating those niggles of injustice with the empty promise that everything was going to be O.K.
I understand now. I understand that Anger is true and powerful and should never be ignored like drunk at a dinner party.
Anger demands to be dealt with. If you don't it'll just morph into an entity far harder to deal with...Regret.
Regret is such a sadsack emotion, heavy footed and dull tongued, lost is Anger's snappy footwork and wit, gone is all that opportunity for grand exits and searing one liners.
Anger is the steaming subway vent on a crisp winters night, Regret is that damp smell that sits low in the summer streets.
I realise that I can be a soppy fucknuckle at times. Hopelessly romantic when it would be more appropriate to become a flipped out psycho maniac. The best I can do is say something slightly caustic, then turn around and ask to be forgiven, yet all I really want to do is slam a door and mean it.
Why can't I flip out and totally lose it. Is there a way I can disconnect the safety mechanism that stops me from becoming a momentary bitch and hotwire my temper to fly off the handle when it's a legitimate opportunity.
I have these fantasies...
I have you by the collar, pushing you against the wall, my eyes are narrow like miniture letter box slots. My brow is so furrowed that I could hold cigarettes in the creases.
You're scared. This is the side of me that has been percolating these last few years, made up of all the things I swallowed.
I swallowed them because I thought they were not valid.
Talk about the ultimate silly bugger, that would be me, too retarded to realise just how valid each bubble of hurt and annoyance was/is.
I get my mouth really close to your ear, so close you can here me breathe.
"You Suck"
That's all I have to say, but I want my body language to convey just how much I believe it. I want you to feel the seething Anger that runs the channels of my being, a vibration that rattles your teeth.
The truth however is not that I am angry at anyone inparticular, actually I take that back, I am angry at me.
Angry that I never stood up for myself in the face of gross unfairness. That I never acted on my gut instincts, always placating those niggles of injustice with the empty promise that everything was going to be O.K.
I understand now. I understand that Anger is true and powerful and should never be ignored like drunk at a dinner party.
Anger demands to be dealt with. If you don't it'll just morph into an entity far harder to deal with...Regret.
Regret is such a sadsack emotion, heavy footed and dull tongued, lost is Anger's snappy footwork and wit, gone is all that opportunity for grand exits and searing one liners.
Anger is the steaming subway vent on a crisp winters night, Regret is that damp smell that sits low in the summer streets.
posted by D. at Tuesday, December 14, 2004
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