Tuesday, January 6, 2009

tyger tyger

Kind of living through a series of small windows currently.
Like I live in this vastness on my side of a wall, heavy and light and churning like a dishwasher.  And I pop my head through this window or that window to make my appearance at work; to friends; at home.  But it's like a cartoon where there's really a tiger behind me, waiting to pounce and maul, that the people outside can't see, that I'm holding the straining tiger back with every mental and physical force I've got, all while simpering to the outside.

Are these similes working for you.
How have I been lately, am I working for you.
I'm tired of thinking about myself, the "What am I going to do?  What I am I going to do?!" of life.  I don't know, I don't fuckin' know.  I feel a snap coming soon, like a twig, like a bone, just horrible, like the femur of a pretty woman breaking under a carriage wheel.  And you saw the carriage rolling toward her for way too long, and you didn't do anything, because you're dealing with this fucking tiger problem.  
Are you
getting me.  

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