The Paw is Golden & Delicious
Beginning to see my life is a Monkey’s Paw. Body perfectly formed, a miniature among giants, vinyl gloves pointing to mutancy. Inside a dream relationship, loving and adoring, loved and adored, the beloved loose parts of anxiety-inducing traits that need constant tidying. Living in the ‘greatest’ country in the world, part of the minority spat at and bullied. The paw is golden, the grip crippling. Mind-body duality. Escape the grip, vanquish the body. Or. Vanquish the gold, escape the mind. Like learning to eat ice cream without enjoying it. Forced inducement of psychopathy. Car alarms drowning human screams, screams of suffering, also screams of triumphant domination. Man approaches and says he lost his wallet and needs money to get home: oldest con because there is a constant truth. A distress cry. The stranger is the unknown. The devil you know. How do you stop wishing? And wasting time trying to foil the unknown catastrophe? Growing list of trigger warnings before films and there are still vomit scenes, unexpected, graphic convulsions that will not stop. Teddy bears get their heads pulled off. Comedy a crippling grip. A sous vide life, without the sheen of a blowtorch. Problem of sacrificing all for procreation. The problem is disguise of the fact. The denial. Wishing we are more than what we are. Father is the son. Magic thinking. Wishing. Having. Collision of and. Clothing beginning of the end.
My Body is a Folly.
. . .
Fairy Tales. Life will not be beautiful (except when a child takes your hand in theirs and says, ‘remember that time...’). You may never find your tribe, but there will always be TV dramas to show you how tribes eat their own. Frogs never become princes but you may find yourself with a roommate who constantly kisses their pet iguana. Mice do not have a direct line to fairy godmothers, but a mouse may come out of hiding to share a meal with you. There is no order in this world outside fractal geometry, no purpose except pointless procreation, no magic beyond earth and sky, the gravitational pulleys hidden by a paper moon. But we know that and pray.
. . .
floating on glass door, shower stall, two crocuses emerging inside field of snow
do I dare grasp
look for renewal
. . .
Horoscope says today will be a spectacular day.
It is a day like any other.~
Most days are days like any other.
I go to horoscopes for an alternative life.
Horoscopes taunt that most days are like any other.
. . .
Suburbia mows the thorns and burrs off fairy tales. Ancient axolotles become anemic goldfish. Chilling myths turn charming. Gods went internal, ulcerating souls. Worship—Freudian self-hatred in the body’s temple carved by acid anxiety. Without symbolic tales. Without epic creation myths. But left, the individual body feeding upon itself, misunderstanding terror as self-help.
What we say to stay sane. What we tell our children. Things we say to each other. It wasn’t meant to be. Everything happens for a reason. It wasn’t yours. It wasn’t for you. God has other plans for you. The filth of expectation management.
Towers of Babel. This time, Mars, each brick cruelty, slavery. Competing egos, greed, clash the seams. It’s not the gods who look down in despair; it’s us, looking up in despair. Once upon a time, sea plants looked up and reached for land, devastating the seas with their hubris. Gods are destruction and we each are gods, hammocking towers that will collapse and destroy everything underneath. Why is it that the only neighbor that lingers is the cockroach?
Fairy tales are us. Back again and again Ancient axolotles become anemic goldfish. Chilling myths turn charming. Gods go internal, ulcerating souls, acid anxiety carving the body temple. Without symbolic tales. Without epic creation myths. What’s left is the body feeding upon itself, misunderstanding terror as enlightenment.
Horoscope says today will be a spectacular day.
It is a day like any other.
Most days are days like any other.
I go to horoscopes for an alternate life.
Horoscopes remind me most days are like any other.
Money tight.
Have reduced.
Life is now scrap living. Again.