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Remove puss from an infected sore


Take the plan, spin it sideways

Avatarכינוי:  מעוייפת

בת: 31





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הוסף מסר

11/2010

Serpents and Airplanes


Come November winds and the anger returns. [It's always November when things either happen or re-happen]. My anger, a red cobra, gliding silently through my pools of defense, reaching me. Touching me. It whispers:

 

 

“Do what feels right to this exact moment. I'll give you the venom- You'll be my teeth.”

 

 

 The anger lies curled up inside me and it doesn't leave. It hisses at everything. It sleeps with it's eyes open.

 But I make myself sound so helpless.

 

 

I sleep with my eyes open.  Me. 

Always on guard, I pretend to be vulnerable. I let everybody come near but wait for their mistake. My eyes are inviting, challenging them to come near. My muscles clench, getting ready without  making any sound.

 

 

Mistakes are made every day, every hour, every single second. Mistakes just keep rolling randomly all over the world, rushing through the air and thudding quickly on the ground. Mistakes are made by millions and millions of people. Americans, Chinese, me. Mistakes are made- and they bother me. They scratch the bottom of my fire-pool and they reach out their faulty hands and legs towards my open eyes, my tightly clenched muscles, my venomous teeth. Mistakes and stress just make me want to bite everyone's head off.

And one day I will.

 

 I try to shut myself off but I can't. My blood is pulsing so hard in my ears- it's the drums of war.  I lose control and I lose myself. It's like running blind-folded in the woods, led solely by fear. Only in this case- I'm led by my destructive urges.

 

If you cut the snakes head off- would its bite still be deadly?

 

 

To calm myself, I reminisce my time in Europe. I cool myself down with memories of the cold rain and the cold language. I distract myself with the shards of memory I have left of those piercing curious brown eyes that confused me and tortured me with the joy of toying with something new. I remember the warm feeling of my best friend's hug against the icy breeze. I comfort myself by caressing the memory of the compassion and concern I received when I was weak and so desperately needed them.

 

 

It just makes want to bury all the snakes in the deserts sand.

 

 

 

נכתב על ידי מעוייפת , 19/11/2010 02:21  
8 תגובות   הצג תגובות    הוסף תגובה   הוסף הפניה   קישור ישיר   שתף   המלץ   הצע ציטוט
תגובה אחרונה של מעוייפת ב-2/1/2011 16:12
 





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