Shut Up

My soul bathes in deceit...
I'm not strong, in reality I'm just a damn fly...a fly at the mercy of those who hold the fly swatters...
I'm not smart; what I do, what I refuse to do, it's all evidence of this fact that I couldn't admit...
I'm not kind. That dead dude would contradict me, but...shit, he's as oblivious as a kid, oblivious to the fact that I only helped myself when I helped him, because the band's success meant my success as a human being.
I'm just...

...pathetic.

Emma grunts under my weight, too big for such a small dog even though my muscles are beginning to hurt from the effort of not falling against her entirely; sorry, Denver, but you have to help me, just this time...

"Johnny..."
My head inadvertently turns at the timid call, but the pain intensifies at the sudden motion and I offer the tiny brunette a groan instead of a decent reply.

"Why don't you restart the band?"

Without retention, my head jerks to a side, to watch what I thought was an understanding twin, in reality just a human being, struggling to understand a being that cannot understand itself; Emma, even born together and having communicated through that thin sheet of placenta in mom's womb, you still don't get me?

I turn to watch the pavement with blank eyes, those eyes that make me want to puke green when I see them in the mirror every morning; the sad contemplation doesn't affect my limping and the pause doesn't affect Emma's stunning performance of supporting me.

"Gray called you..."
It's more an observation, than a question, but you answer me nonetheless, as an obedient dog...when have you changed so much?

"Yeah...he said some disturbing things..."
"...Hmm?"

And a pause in which only the wind responds to the mumbled question. I don't expect her to answer this, but...when have you started being other people's messengers?

"He told you to convince me..."
"Yeah, he did.It's your decision, but...why do you refuse him?"
"Emma!"

And the aggravation in my voice gives me off as my blank eyes give off the fact that my soul has died a long time ago.
Her eyes study me without mercy, cold as the wind that tries to mess with my balance; her eyes that never were cold...

"You being defensive means you have something to hide, Boston"
And I offer a moan of complaint."Do I have to have a reason? Jesus, you're just like mom, pestering me with stupid questions"
And her eyes remain cold, turning even colder, if possible."Why?"
"You're not my psychologist,dammit! Cut it out!

And then her eyes turn dark with disappointment and she turns her stare to the damp pavement.

And silence...
...maddening silence...

I groan."I can't restart the band...not without that dude"
She remains impassive to my confession, watching the street without interest, as if she's concentrating on something internal.

Her answer, delayed, is broken.
"I told Grey the same thing..."

And such a simple reply torments my already hurting heart.
Sorry, Em, for doubting your abilities of understanding the sick being that I am...you understand me better than I do.

I raise my head and the sudden change of perspectives(my eyes, previously buried in the pavement, now lifting to the block that my lack of money forced me to rent as a temporary home) makes me nauseous.
Emma's eyes darken with terror at the number of stairs we have to battle to reach my humble abode, 16, if I counted them correctly( I remember being drunk when I did such a stupid thing and the trifle was considerably harder than I expected).

And my eyes darken more than hers did...
...I have to...I have to climb 16 stairs...

My teeth clench at the first step and Emma asks a concerned 'You want to stop?' that makes me smile at how she's changed, from a rebellious little dog( that would have criticized me for being too soft and pushed me the rest of the 15 stairs, ignoring my screams of complaint) to a caring woman( that observes the world and its pain and that resonates with it).

Em, how I love you...
But I know that dude loved you so much more...

"No", my reply forces me to take a few more steps, but the 7th step makes me stop again and bite my lips.

Her eyes study me, silent and yet obviously concerned, patient, waiting for me to decide when to restart the agony of movement.
My laugh is dry and it makes her smile in amusement, but it gives me enough pause for my brain to gather courage and take a few more steps.

But a scream stops all movement.
"Fuck! Em, stop, stop!"
Her eyes mock me, but it's okay, pain deranges me more.
"Come on, you big baby", she pushes, but I groan and spit an angry 'no!' at her attempt."We have two more steps!"
"I don't care!", I spit through my clenched teeth.
"Jesus..."

A mouthful of air exhaled;we reach our destination.
"Congratulations", she retorts in a mocking voice, her eyes bright with amusement.
But how bright can black be?
My stare is blue, but...it's as black as hers...

I fish the keys out of my pocket and sigh at the familiar smell of mold, cringing as Em pushes me inside with impatience.
I seat my tired bones on the sofa and nurse my pulsating neck; but though my hands have a preoccupation, my eyes study Em and nothing more.

How disgusted she seems to be...
-disgusted at how disgusting everything is; mold-infested walls, dirty floor, dirty bed that I almost never embrace...
...and a rusted guitar...my life is rusted...

And then she sees Mike's beast, black and beautiful.
And her stare turns blear with tears.

"You kept his base"

I let my eyes fall to study the wooden boards, taking in each particularity of the rigid floor that I never had an interest to notice.
That base is the only thing in this dirty place that is not dirty...
...including me...

"Boston", she croaks and I see how she struggles not to cry.
You idiot...it's stupid to hold it in...
"I miss him so much"

My eyes continue to study the floor without interest; I just don't want her to see it in my eyes, that I miss that guy as much as she does.

"Yeah.."
"Can I...Can I come stay with you?"

I laugh in mock and raise my skeptical eyes to watch her hopeful ones.
"Does this beautiful smell appeal to you so much?"
She laughs, a damp laugh."I just...No, dude, it's horrible"
I laugh in response."Yeah, of course you can, Denver"
Her eyes are sad again."I can't stand living there anymore...It's like he's left himself on everything. It's like I breathe him"
My eyes are sad again.

"I miss him..."
"Yeah...I miss him as well"