I'm Cold

I’m cold just sitting here writing on the computer
away from my daughter whose one big front tooth
is alone without its partner that hasn’t grown in yet,
and her teacher told me she holds Tyler’s hand at school,
missing a sibling, is missing alot in childhood,
when I had five of them she has none,
and there is alot of that in life
being without and having to accept it
an old lover Jim has had two divorces,
nearly 70, he’s looking for a third,
the inevitably of finding someone even at my age
and giving yourself to another as a newborn
sharing is not as easy as it has come to sound
it’s obnoxious to think so
and pulls us out of ourselves to even try,
I say to hell with that, with such battles,
with such domestications, and the laceration of open flesh,
and the open borders and the dangers of allowing another inside
and the inhalation of another’s pores and fluids
and the chances one takes of having it become toxic
and the peeling back of the layers of defense
and past corpses one has to pull out to let someone else in again,
and one by one, I pulled out rotting bodies
like dirty tampons I had lost inside of my body,
and forgetting they were there, and the bloody discharge reminds me,
like the bloody bodies I kept, and I have kept
them to be filled with something even bitterness
to keep the empty space occupied to keep something else out,
and the weapons one has to put down, but can’t,
and the insults that have to close but can’t,
and the broken orifice, that has faced so much disappointment
and refuse and the rejection of sewing one’s skin back together,
and putting it back on one’s back, and wearing it as wearing one’s clothes,
the broken body all worn down and worn out by relationships that invaded me, and left, and the fatality of being left so many times,
and being left like going through a revolving door,
and being left and being left
and going through the revolving door,
and going around
and around
and pointlessly
and stubbornly around
until you discover you are just going
around and
around and
around something so meaningless,
and I thought after that letting someone in should be hard
but it gets easier with desperation,
and everthing seems to laugh at disconnection,
and it makes my saliva ready and long to spit back at
all of the connection in the world,
and lonely people are like hungry souls
looking and
looking and
deprived of companionship
as deprived of food, and they are paupers,
begging and
begging for scraps of affection
hidden inside of universes of fat
hidden bones disguised by all of the flesh
screaming to get out of it
unable to
the universe stretches itself out
for centuries and centuries
the planets are indicative of not being able to reach
the illusion of distance that is unattainable
that you will be called when they say you will
and that the answering machine
really isn’t the world’s opinion of you
that there is life out there besides your own,
and the knife is twisted inside my heart
by what you did to me,
the betrayal of your indifference,
and the words that never matched your action
like a badly dubbed movie
that was the illness of what I thought was between us
and knowing you was like the violation of incest
and the psychological rape of trusting someone
who deliberately lies, and one has to move on
as if moving along a line at the movies
as casually as quickly and as poignantly
and I thought my not knowing you anymore would get easier
it was a rusted chainsaw you cut me with
and I thought I could see you and not be reminded
of things collapsing all around me
being reminded of burials
and reminded of nature fornicating
and creating mutated species
and forests being burned down by your thoughtless match
and how you casually lit it, and threw it without a thought
to what might be living there, the rusted mentality
that goes along with each failure of communication
and thoughts that had wrong expression
the action that was awkward and butchered
by mouths too misshapen to speak the truth,
and the time you murdered and the years I spent
trying to break out of myself
and the body is sad without connection,
the mouth loses its happiness
and indifference of mouths that spin flattery
and misdirection as spinning something of value
I know spiders live inside mouths like yours
and people like you don’t even feel them spinning webs
behind their teeth when they are closed
your tongue makes its bed with venemous things
so it can’t understand what honesty means
I’d rather be lying alone in my bed
without someone’s night stick poking me in the back
sleeping with my daughter’s big tooth
who tells me it is better to be alone
than to go through earthquakes of failure
to be torn asunder by having one’s veins
pulled out through the narrow slits of this minute
trying to find something to direct myself to
knowing that sometimes one has alot of children
to keep oneself from being just a woman
terrified by a bed without a pulse
some women keep having children,
and keep reproducing themselves
even though there is not one good reason
or one good man in their house
I don’t want to believe that this is all there is to life
that people go through life sucking dozens of oranges
how does Jim find someone,
and how does my daughter keep from holding a boy’s hand
because she misses not having a brother,
how will she not confuse this for sexual love in the future,
and how does one recognize the bad ones in the beginning,
like recognizing a bad melon without having to cut through it
if only matter and molecules and our individuals cells
and our DNA weren’t really traps
solitary portraits of what it is to be human
and the isolation of the people who jumped
must have felt on top of the world trade center on September 11.

copyright2009misfit1965

I'm Cold

Matty B. Duran

Joined July 2009

  • Artist
    Notes
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Artist's Description

I wrote this when my daughter was in elementray school it was the beginning of her illnes. 9/11 had also just happened.

Artwork Comments

  • Reynaldo
  • Matty B. Duran
  • Solomon Walker
  • Matty B. Duran
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