Sunday, May 1, 2011

Still after it? (2)


As the ribbons continue to strangle the gifts you’ve sent my way, your favorite flavors packed inside exudate from your world to mine through a hole none of us drilled. You can cry over the damaging hole, I will cry over the invasive truth.

Is there no looking-away from the scene under play? God knows I can’t stand any of it; the wrong flavor, the misguided flow, the metastasis of the mess and above all, my persistent being in an all-about-you air. Nobody’s going to sneak out though.

There will be survival crisis. There will be giving-up phases. There will be disconnections. Everything, there will be but ducking out; out of the camera-lights, despite the congestion, despite the suffocation.

“Battery full, please unplug,” my cell phone enlightens me: it’s the unplugging we fail to do.