Tuesday Night Post # 2-10

Pterodactyls,

Feeling a bit of an Odd John.  Hope your children feel a bit more secure with black and white draped over every action they take. 

The mind can only see what it can afford to believe. 

For every one that is bored with the modern world I’m sure there are things in store to keep you wondering. 

Don’t confuse my passion for arrogance.  These are just words no greater nor less than any other words you will read in your lifetime.

-DBL

*     *     *     *     *

 A Job is Just an Action Done Again and Again

So is it true the goal that we reach is to excel this tendency for growth?  I have always felt what I needed was to focus my thoughts and achieve only a concentrated desire to produce.  Sitting here all I can really produce is feelings of loneliness, feelings of pain and a want to sleep.  In warm but nauseating waves I also feel a desire to call.  Call the last person that told me they loved me and wanted me. 

Silly dreams forget that like the impulsive phone call at 2 o’clock in the morning, like the sudden fleeing to another’s arms, like her, those concepts have perished.  Freedoms of another lifetime when the four walls I inhabited belonged to me.  Back when freedom tormented me like an infinite empty space surrounding me, suffocated me.  Disease filled times of panic and chaos. 

My dwelling offers all the amenities I would need:  Three meals, a bed, streaming media of any sort and a feeling of purpose.

No need to count my time.  I just wait for it to be my time to produce.  I’m just a wheel in the machine when the light turns on I turn.

Even though this is true I sit here and wait.  Thinking of things I once owned: The feelings of mistakes, the actions that I see now, mistaking the words you once said… 

Strange to think that all I ever wanted was a role, a place to exist with a purpose.  Now that I sit in this cube waiting for my purpose all I can think of is what I wish I did before I sat here and waited. 

My tray of food still is on my table, a ledge hinged on the wall.  My chair I left by the door.  I myself half reclining in my cot no thoughts but ones that belong to you.

My time to rest has been put aside for this moment of normal human regret and ruminations.

The yellow warning light over my door has not gone on, that leaves me more then an hour to go over all the words you once said.  I replay them all.  Maybe this is just a thought exercise.  Finding some meaning I formulate a new answer crunching the numbers seeing if there could have been some sort of proper outcome that fulfilled us both. 

I go over all the moments that made me feel we belonged.  I even replay the many dances we danced.  In retrospect it feels I was the one that was odd man out.  I see the space you occupied while you spun.  As always I was just peering into a world I understood but this graft never stuck.  Even the music you understood in different ways then I did.  I tell myself that if only you believed that all I wanted ever imagined was you, fully clothed and realized. My greatest dreams could have never pictured you, never knew you actually existed.  Punching in all those numbers I finally saw you, and what a sight.  Floating by… my dark angel.

As I think this thought one occurs in parallel, how can any of us know what to do if we were never sober.  Sober from darkness, fear, chaos, dread, constantly drinking from each other’s insecurities.  What can we find in destruction other then a moment to reflect after it is over.  In my cube I reflect…thinking if I could just speak to you one more time maybe you would say something new to add to this equation. 

What can those words be, what will they mean…then the yellow light comes on.  I can put these thoughts aside.  I have an hour to prepare for my role.