aosid's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- flatline There have been no words behind my brow for months. I used to picture them as the royal crowns of navy blue that ringed my irises under the right suns. They really existed in blushing acquaintance comments, but I don't think anyone has checked in months. It's strange to be proud of a few recessive genes, origin and function obscured. At any rate, they may have gone the way of my semicolons and artful run-ons. There's probably a good German word for "the pain of not having enough pain." I heard that phrase on a sitcom, and it resonated longer than its sarcastic context should have allowed. There's probably a good German word for "inappropriate melancholy hidden in humor." I became old sometime this spring. I saw that I might already know who will be my lover for sixty years or what have. I might even already know her as my lover. But I haven't felt the old desperate floor-dropping or the urge to write rejected-Smiths-lyrics. I've known it and carried it behind stoicism, set in plaster through-and-through. There are baggages and melodrama circumstances, betrayals, divorces, children, yes, but I haven't felt a crumb of worry or rage. It almost seems wrong. And now all my friends' skulls are cracking. I hold them and demand their gaze, but it doesn't mean what it used to. Somehow they know that I have no verses for them - the flat light blue, unadorned, has betrayed the void. I can't help them because I don't have the right knots and scars. I don't fear enough to be a friend, and that scares me. 2:35 a.m. - 2012-09-25 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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