thirty days past september: ambiguation

11.20.2004

"anabel"

Good lord, sometimes i wanna ask, "have we met?"
As if suddenly i'm some remedial stranger she'd unknowingly let into her confidence instead of the war buddy bond that keeps her in my life at all.
instead of the fact that i'm pretty sure i know more about her than almost any body else, almost the first person she ever "knew" outside her family at the ripe old age of sixteen.
'nabel, dear, we all know-- i'm just the only one who bothers to not try to not think about it, despite that particular angle's lack of fashion here.
the fear, the self placement
the rise and fall of your ego
and how tenuously placed it can be depending on that week's choice of the opposition
being drunk is no longer a challenge
find one that won't decide between dirt and sainthood for you
because it's less and less worth bothering to know
when i could check back in another decade and still get the same answers.
is the only real difference going to be in your steady screw?
no, at least you're not like cela
who's only apparent goal was to claim a penis and fence off all rights with concrete and venom
your excuses must be ringing hollow to your own ears by now.
why is it that that frank honesty is almost always some kind of accidental
and most states of update are in fact what you hope to but haven't done yet?
These falsehoods can't be for me
unless we really haven't met
the count down has started, bella
space must now be portioned and no longer available for lease
i wonder what the review board will say

My lack of kindness is harsh, i know
but you can't expect to play piglet all the time
and acting helpless doesn't help, it just looks kind of sad and pathetic.
yes, i am being harsh. harsh and blunt. the way you claim to understand and want the world to be, except you can't take it without feeling at risk, using only the filter of your egoist's eye
take it apart and clean your lenses
you, who wondered if my mother's foibles were hereditary, are becoming this odd version of your uptight mom.
there has to be a ledge somewhere between out of control and anal.
there must be.