hallmark holiday

start from the beginning, take stock of your whole body and especially your breath, slowly bringing your attention to your toes. it is there you begin to relax completely, one organ to the next, you locate every ounce of tension paying particular attention to the little muscles like around the eyes for instance, the joints in your fingers, the tension held in the groin or thighs. and let it go. let it all disappear. if you find that something remains, if the tension or anxiety is twice vivid as before, you know that your dumb body is no longer bearing the grunt of it. healing our bodies cannot mend our emotions, only they reveal or obscure them further. eventually we can find the very bottom of it and take from this a sense of unbearable nothingness. i have found no use in trying to heal those wounds; same as the babe suckling for milk, we are unconsciously doing it anyway and at best, we can wizen ourselves to the fact of doing it. but does that mean these are so many empty gestures? we are wise to ourselves but must go about as if it were all the same, as if we didn't know... the pretense of meaning is its architect.

the first mistake; my prayers were all too earnest, my promises too sincere. i know that life is not experienced through observation, just as desire doesnt find a spark by any plea or prayer. and the words her mouth wouldnt dare to speak, my eyes were privy to them encrypted in text and told to the entire world. his face and hand would stain her image and engross the story even more than the irony which proceeded in its conception and rebirth. so that i played the central role in my own nightmare is only a small portion of it, but, just a day after their lips met for the last time and she gave her self to him, it was the very next christmas day her legs opened to meet my lips and tongue which were held neither sacred nor apart from any other, the christmas she wept when we met again. her contradictions are equaled only by her betrayal which are both illuminated only in part by her words 'we are nothing but bodies separated only by skin.' sharp shocks that exploded my world equally in opposite directions but into one indecipherable chasm from where the 'word' whore was never shouted like all the slaps to her face and a christmas with her parents was played out to a near perfect portrayal to each one another for some fucking 'ideal' situation in her life, a safe-keeping for all my torments which for my part was committed to out of a respect that had everything to do with them. and for admitting she was a coward by never telling me i am supposed to take her apology, and in the wake of her actions to be genuine or grounds for forgiveness. and to whom is this situation more of an embarresment? do these wounds ever heal or like so many promises instead become irrelevant? or do they constitute (if i continue with) a new beginning where we are merely the said bodies occupying a space that is itself a kind of body separated only by other spaces...and when does this become a stupid, masochistic waste of time (a certain somebody wispers "it already has")!!!??