I want my life a certain way. I can’t just WAIT for that to happen to me. That was my childhood. That is what is not going to happen now. I have to make the changes myself. Why is it so difficult???
I had my tooth pulled today.
It was infected.
None of it actually really hurt.
They froze the left side of my jaw.
That was the first time tears started falling into my ears.
And I couldn’t get the motion to speak figured out.
It was the uncontrol. The fact that these two ladies ( professional ) could like rip my lip off or stab my gum, or switch my teeth around in there. I was helpless to their help.
The second time I cried was when I felt the flurry of there hands through my clenched eyes, and the pressure and pull. And I couldn’t breathe quite right. It was running breath I couldn’t slow to a walk and it was because I just felt that this was more difficult then they anticipated. Sharp intake of breath and I sat up in the seat and within 20 seconds my hyperventilation was over and I layed still, clenching a kleenix. Oh how I wished I brought my sons favourite stuffy.
But I got through it.
Now I sit with gauze and blood and frozen.
If I broke the bubbles in the bath with a sledgehammer , I thought myself a murderer.
When I break my own heart, I feel like a loser in the gutters of East Toronto.
What is the difference between smashing up other peoples lives
instead of your own?
What makes guilt fight conscience?
What makes you live so poorly
so intentionally unpotentially?
You know there is more out there for you
then sucking bubbles down your throat trying to drown your sorrows,
as if air could do that anyways.
Tell me I’m perfect to you,
so that I gain confidence
in being the only reason
Being stuck for years doesn’t have to mean death.
I think it is the feeling of being mentally stuck
that keeps us the stuck for the longest
the most deadly of all stucks.
We get these bursts of living every now and then
and surge forward with them
and then are surprised when we trip over a log in the middle of a cement parking lot.
Expect and equip.
You have it in you.
I aim for sugar dirt.
Crusted in your burnt bacon.
I’ll bend so far I won’t feel my big toe,
stuck in salsa
that you dripped down the stove
just to see it travel
from top to bottom
like our slow touches
that give us freedom
to love our flavoured beauty.