Shut Up
I'm sinking deeper
Blue eyes shoot awake. That blue, though, is not rested, nor clear after what was little over an hour of sleep.
That sky is apocalyptic, having witnessed the total destruction of the soul it reflects.
It's slowly restoring, that soul, the blue is turning clearer, but at the base of this improvement stand the piles of pills that heal before ruining.
I throw the tube of sleeping pills at the wall, using an excess of force that hints angry disappointment.
No salvation for this damned soul. I'm only sinking deeper...
My eyes inadvertently rise at a sudden intrusion of sound in my dense world of silence and they meet eyes that reacted to my own intrusion in their world of silence.
Emma watches me with outworn concern, kneeling beside my bedside as she had done her entire childhood, alleviating the pain of a soul lonely in its suffering.
So painful a reminder of my inability to react to such a gentle aid.
"I'm fine, Em", I mutter the lie of a decrepit disease, the mask through which Em seemed to always see my teary soul."I'm fine"
Her eyes shine like constellations of dying stars and it adds to my pain to know that I'm the wind that blows out such a persistent life...
but I don't think my soul wants to share its tale with another...
"Boston", she pleads, her digits grasping the scratchy blanket atop my legs with pleading force.
And that brush of skin against my skin haunts me, without the mismatching size bothering its development. That touch that repeats ruthlessly in every dream my brain sketches...my diseased brain...
"What do you want from me, Em?", I mumble, angered by her pestering demands.
And she blurts out an answer that makes my soul bleed and beg the tongue to remain still."I want you to share your pain with me"
"You're not my shrink", I answer after a moment of reflection, pushing her to test her persistence."And I'm not your patient"
"But I'm your sister", she pushes back."And it's insulting, how you repeat those words to me like I'm dumb! I've never believed you and I never will"
A bitter smile of compliance taints my face.
How can I say 'no' when such a force pushes me in the direction opposing that word?
And then my digits tangle in the chord of my mp3 and the smile turns to a real manifestation of bitterness, a scowl.
The noose of a soul desperate to live...
"I've just been listening to some stupid songs", I mutter and throw the mp3 at the wall, forcing a correlation between music and pills to settle in my tired brain.
"You know music can't do anything but bring forth memories", she offers.
And her answer frustrates me, because she's reading the situation too well for a situation that doesn't want to be read.
"I had a stupid dream", I mutter between the digits that settled on my face as if a shield from the eyes that analyze." I was in dad's old Chevy and he was driving on a very long road. And it seemed endless, the drive. My skin was becoming wrinkly and stained and... old. And I wanted to close my eyes and go to sleep. I was so tired, Em"
Between my fingers I could see her eyes, eyes that encouraged me to continue.
"I couldn't close my eyes, because those three haunting specters appeared and...and I was young again. And it never ends. The road is endless"
Her palms slide up to place on my knee cap, the palms that seem to belong to a child, small and yet enough reassuring for a tired soul that stopped thinking a life ago that the world is pure...and maybe for her it is, but for me...for me it's a fucking tar pit.
"Johnny..."
A lonely tear slides down my palm after battling the skin that connects the bases of my fingers. Another soon follows...
"Johnny"
Johnny is not how you call me, Denver.
It's how Aaron's dad called me...
It's how that dead dude eventually called me......
It's a haunting name.
I even prefer Uri over it, even though my childhood was ruined by this name becoming urine.
"The road ended a long time ago. You're not 14 anymore. You're able to close your eyes now"
And the tears roll like my dad's damned chevy on that horrible road of existence.
Oh, Em, you really do think the world is pure...
I'm not getting better.
I've never had the glue necessary to put together the pieces of my soul.
And I still don't have it.
And I never will...
I'm only sinking deeper...
That sky is apocalyptic, having witnessed the total destruction of the soul it reflects.
It's slowly restoring, that soul, the blue is turning clearer, but at the base of this improvement stand the piles of pills that heal before ruining.
I throw the tube of sleeping pills at the wall, using an excess of force that hints angry disappointment.
No salvation for this damned soul. I'm only sinking deeper...
My eyes inadvertently rise at a sudden intrusion of sound in my dense world of silence and they meet eyes that reacted to my own intrusion in their world of silence.
Emma watches me with outworn concern, kneeling beside my bedside as she had done her entire childhood, alleviating the pain of a soul lonely in its suffering.
So painful a reminder of my inability to react to such a gentle aid.
"I'm fine, Em", I mutter the lie of a decrepit disease, the mask through which Em seemed to always see my teary soul."I'm fine"
Her eyes shine like constellations of dying stars and it adds to my pain to know that I'm the wind that blows out such a persistent life...
but I don't think my soul wants to share its tale with another...
"Boston", she pleads, her digits grasping the scratchy blanket atop my legs with pleading force.
And that brush of skin against my skin haunts me, without the mismatching size bothering its development. That touch that repeats ruthlessly in every dream my brain sketches...my diseased brain...
"What do you want from me, Em?", I mumble, angered by her pestering demands.
And she blurts out an answer that makes my soul bleed and beg the tongue to remain still."I want you to share your pain with me"
"You're not my shrink", I answer after a moment of reflection, pushing her to test her persistence."And I'm not your patient"
"But I'm your sister", she pushes back."And it's insulting, how you repeat those words to me like I'm dumb! I've never believed you and I never will"
A bitter smile of compliance taints my face.
How can I say 'no' when such a force pushes me in the direction opposing that word?
And then my digits tangle in the chord of my mp3 and the smile turns to a real manifestation of bitterness, a scowl.
The noose of a soul desperate to live...
"I've just been listening to some stupid songs", I mutter and throw the mp3 at the wall, forcing a correlation between music and pills to settle in my tired brain.
"You know music can't do anything but bring forth memories", she offers.
And her answer frustrates me, because she's reading the situation too well for a situation that doesn't want to be read.
"I had a stupid dream", I mutter between the digits that settled on my face as if a shield from the eyes that analyze." I was in dad's old Chevy and he was driving on a very long road. And it seemed endless, the drive. My skin was becoming wrinkly and stained and... old. And I wanted to close my eyes and go to sleep. I was so tired, Em"
Between my fingers I could see her eyes, eyes that encouraged me to continue.
"I couldn't close my eyes, because those three haunting specters appeared and...and I was young again. And it never ends. The road is endless"
Her palms slide up to place on my knee cap, the palms that seem to belong to a child, small and yet enough reassuring for a tired soul that stopped thinking a life ago that the world is pure...and maybe for her it is, but for me...for me it's a fucking tar pit.
"Johnny..."
A lonely tear slides down my palm after battling the skin that connects the bases of my fingers. Another soon follows...
"Johnny"
Johnny is not how you call me, Denver.
It's how Aaron's dad called me...
It's how that dead dude eventually called me......
It's a haunting name.
I even prefer Uri over it, even though my childhood was ruined by this name becoming urine.
"The road ended a long time ago. You're not 14 anymore. You're able to close your eyes now"
And the tears roll like my dad's damned chevy on that horrible road of existence.
Oh, Em, you really do think the world is pure...
I'm not getting better.
I've never had the glue necessary to put together the pieces of my soul.
And I still don't have it.
And I never will...
I'm only sinking deeper...