fall guy

there is something symphonic, like heavy strings in my head that is cracking me open like an eggshell.  all of me pours out like loose soup into a hot pot and i can feel myself rise to a boil.  my flesh, bone and blood make a stinky compote of gelatin texture when risen to the right temperature. there are other ways to find torture. 

beautiful voices are resounding in my minds eye.  they are echoing sentiments.  everyone, the people i think i know, in a short breath i call them friends, more exhaustively i see them as taxes on my feeble psyche. i see them as everything in the world. i'm laid out on train tracks for them to sleep soundly this night.

i learned just recently in a drunken moment of clarity that this is a stupid fault ridden emotion, delusional at best and with a great deal of certainty is the manifestation of my naivety.  oh how sad a bridge that was to cross, and lonely to boot.  you got look out for yourself, close your heart and just keep your eyes on the road.  you take one look back and someone else has taken the reigns, sealing your fate for a lifetime as a fall guy.  you can't ask too much of anyone, ever.  so the eclipse of my heart and my mind has begun the slow struggle to close its doors. what a sad, bitter, metallic tang of reality that was, is, becomes...  

i'm taking big chomps of this tepid pill but its too big to swallow in one bite. i'm hacking away at it with due diligence. its the size of a cheese steak served dry, no mayo. it sees i got problems. 

*have you ever seen the movie Chinatown? its one of my favorite films.  there is a scene where Faye Dunaway's character, Evelyn Mulray, calls Jack Nicholson's character, Jake Gittes.  he answers the phone and she says with distress in her voice, "are you alone?" he says back to her, "aren't we all?"*

i'm leaping up this cauldron of consternation.  i'm alliterating for no reason at all. the pressure at my temples goes tick, tick, tick, tick... though, i'm sure to make your eyes close, to make you shield your face from my airing of grievances, from my shoulder of lonesome crowded eastern faded firelight, from septic tongued desperation, from mirrored callow promises of my so called "oh my brothers", from listening time literate exasperation, from henry dancing with me on stage till the bouncer kicks US off, from the hope that this can touch you without touching, from protection hermetically sealed in my soul that now launches outward to merge with infinity forever and ever, from the tiled inner self dwelling and building a place of stone catapulting me pass people who could give a fuck and from that shallow nepotism displayed on the daily toward your kind faces that contract and expand, sullen by good times and awaken from this solemn incantation of heavy powered exhaustion, breathlessly searching for a place on a rock. 

excuse the drama, but i'm feeling blue.