Straitjacket

And I sit...pondering, wondering the truth that lies behind your eyes. My mind drives itself insane...I’ll always wonder and as the days prove me right, I realize I’ve reached a downfall I can’t look past. I sit. I think of why you can’t just tell me it’s difficult for you....you can’t tell me it’s difficult, I don’t need to know why, I know why. You speak so much about truth, the truth, the truth will set you free. Who’s free from this?? Who’s free?? I sit.
And I lay, I lay quiet. I feel your presence, feel your body, I feel your weight. My mind is already thinking of it. I can’t make it stop, it just thinks, just thinks. You ask me, “what’s on your mind.” I look away and say , “Nothing”. When you ask it opens up my mind, and I again begin to wonder and ponder. I don’t judge what’s going to happen, for fear that what I believe is right, will be right. I feel your breath on my neck, I feel your lips make their way to mine. I feel how soft you are, how warm. My body collapses into an unlock-able fit of instinct. The instinct to feel you on me, feeling my heart starting to race, I beg it to slow, for fear of what I already know, but it doesn’t. I watch you, touch me and kiss me like you want something from me. I pray that you do want something from me. I plead. Your breaths get shorter and I feel as if mine will completely stop altogether. My hand wraps around your thigh, slipping under your boxers. I feel your skin, cold, and my hands caress you to make you warm. As warm as me. I push I beg, I plead. Anything to keep the truth out, anything. You respond, pushing yourself into me, and for a second I forget, for a second I forget. Then your kisses slow, become less passionate, your body doesn’t react to me anymore. I am still in a fit of instinct, feeling you there. My mind refuses to acknowledge the fact that you stopped, that it has stopped. And suddenly I open my eyes and look at you, your eyes are focused on the t.v. That’s when I feel it, the vanquishment, the seething emotion of rejection seeps itself through my thoughts. And i am but a shell of who I once was twenty seconds ago. The sounds around me transform into muffles, I hear nothing. I stare up at the blank white wall, and I wonder. I lay and I wonder. And it’s there. There it is, my mind says. There. You finally look back at me, catching me staring at the blank images. You ask me again, that question that drags me into the half-conscience of my mind. I feel myself backing away, still staring at the shapes that don’t give me any meaning. I kiss you, not passionate, just a kiss to make you stay. I begin to get cold, and you move. Away from me. I laugh at myself on the inside, because this, this is what I knew it to be all along. My thoughts revert to the “confession” I wrote earlier. I feel myself saying, whispering, don’t cry. Don’t think those words. But they ring, reeking havoc on my thoughts, every thought. I get up, walk to the bathroom. Using it as an excuse although I do need to use it. I get up and am grateful to see that I managed to make the equilibrium vanish. The thoughts however, don’t choose to vanish, I can’t make them.
And I remember. The last time I felt your heat. The day of drinking...and before that...the high. Days of sobriety in between. And I remember. Last night. The still. I pleaded to be able to read your thoughts, to know what you wanted, but I knew, it feels like I knew. I lay my head in defeat, rejection, the lost conquest that I will never again have the ability to utilize. I appreciate the darkness that surrounded us. Masking me, hiding. The feelings, the knowing, seeps into my brain, keeping itself there like the song, the slow acoustics staining my thoughts. And I remember, the drunk night. I didn’t feel anything, for a while, I didn’t feel. I felt completely and absolutely nothing. Nothing. I opened my eyes and fear cradled my mind. Panic set in. But the thoughts, the theory plagued, haunted my being. And I felt nothing when your lips touched mine. Nothing. I sat and drowned in the indefinite sorrow that I brought upon myself. I hear the lie you tell me over and over again. I hear it. Ringing. Loud. A siren. On repeat. And instantly, I feel again. But the backlash has me spinning. I plead with myself to feel, to feel anything, but this. But I wear it like a jacket. I wear it. It wraps around me. And I can’t reach far enough to undo the knot.
And I deny. I deny it. Every second you look at me. I deny that you only touch me like that when you’ve had help. I deny that we are like friends...who only make out because they’re drunk and people are watching. because it is expected. I deny. I deny and I beg. That you just tell me that this is what it is. I beg. “Sometimes I just like to keep a day in between because it builds suspense,” since when?? Since when has that been your outtake on us?? I hear the lie and my heart shatters, tears, rips into my flesh like the cold edge of a serrated knife. It rips at my skin, leaving thoughts, insecurities, worry, to seep onto my arms like warm blood. I lick at the wounds, they still bleed, just lightly now. But every time I do something, I feel the wound, the jacket rubs against it, making me cringe with the burn. The burn. Scabs form. I tell myself that this is it, the healing. The more treatment I apply, the more the scabs tear, I pick them off. Forcing myself to realize the truth about you. Forcing myself to realize the truth. I see the pink, wound, still fresh like it was four days ago. The bleeding has stopped but the burning has not. I look at the wound and deny it. I deny it, as my day goes on. But it creeps. It rises, pulling itself onto my arms. Holding me. I can’t take it off, and I find myself fearing once again for the end. Fearing. As we kissed this last time, it tied. Again I felt nothing. Nothing. I had to get up. I see the truth in your eyes. I hear the lie, thinking of the waves sound makes as it comes to rest at its destination.
And I wait. I wait to hear you tell me the truth. I am tormented. I pretend and hide. I pretend. I fail to pretend, the wall falls and the feeling of nothing picks at me. I stare blankly, looking at nothing but seeing everything. I’m hearing nothing but listening to everything. The keys of the piano begin to play. And I think of this song. I think of the words on your arm, and stare at the truth that you refuse to tell, that you refuse to say.
And I wonder. If this time we spend is worth it, or if it just... a waste of time. I begin to wonder if... we will overcome or fail. I wonder if I am willing to take the risk. Again. I wonder if I deny, if I keep denying, will it make it ok?? Will I become accustomed and end up satisfied, not satisfied, but happy?? Happy with knowing that we won’t ever be intimate on an intimate level...I wonder. I ponder, I sit, I lay, I remember, I wait...
And I deny.
protori protori
18-21, F
Jul 27, 2010