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| My Statue |
i crack my knuckles to loosen them up
but it always seems, moments later, that theyve tensed up again
like a slow lead is makingn them lathargic
ahhh
lethargy
not to be confused with leprosy
a plague on the many faces in my life
even mine
how i wish to vent all this anger
express all this built up rage
but i dont think i can
because then it will always be here
and ill come back to this post months later
wishing to find some bit of hope
this will open a flood of old bitter emotion
maybe ill just write it out
and delete it
how i wish i could
that is
im not one to throw away things, most anything
from bottle caps to old receipts
i got em all
excluding garbage theres not much i toss
its pretty pathetic
grasping on to the things that hold memories
well when i put it like that...its pretty awesome
this little statue
sitting on my desk
covered in a decade of dust and nicotine
takes me back to a time when my life was turmoltuous
try sounding it out
its got the three dwarves from that movie with the seven
ive forgottten
oh theres the title, sleeping beauty.
all three, dopey, smurfy, and fatty
i dont know the names thats what they are to me
standing around some tree with water carved in it
playing in the bubbles all smiles
a time when my father was quite absent
for some unexplained reason
a rip in my consiousness
i remember yelling
and breaking
then nothing
my fathers dreary appartemtn
with one light
no tv
no furniture
barely a place to live
but he was there
i was brought to visit him
the place was nowhere id ever want to be
but because dad was there i was fine
i was alone there for a bit
he tossed me a book as he left
but it was foreign to me
i wandered the desert
searching for somthing to interest me
i could find a penny and play for hours
but nothing here held imagination
the walls were bleach white
carpet immaculatly grey
so wretched in its boxed design
i happend to find myself washing my hands, somthing i never did
looking up at the window i saw the little statue
dusty and sunbaked
the bright colors disney had so finely put together were lost
but it was enough
enough for me to enjoy
though they didnt move
id made stories for them
all three
how theyd been at work all day
sweaty and coal-riddled
this cool bath was their last bastion before home
a way to cleanse their minds as well as their ears
of coarse they were fighting dinosaurs at the same time
and probably some supervillian was on their heels
but thats besides the point
my father returns
im embarrassed to be playing with such nonsensical things
so i toss it back in place
he greets me with a defeated smile and goes to the sink
starring for a moment
he picks up the little statue
walks it over to me
im red
hands it to me
"its yours ben"
it doesnt seem like much, not a great story
so what, that stupid little statue is just a lump of plastic and cheap paint
but in a colorless world
where the paints one color
the refridgerators empty
the waters uncommonly cold
and its only you
to give away the one thing that shows a bit of home, that theres still a bit of life left
well
thats love
in its cheap little gift shop way
its love
i need to write more
because i know theres more emotion that could be thrown in there
i need to get back into the game
thats the first time ive ever told the story
its not like its a big story
in my life atleast
but its a story
and im glad its there
so i can come back a few months from now and feel all warm and fuzzy
and be glad about the things ive collected.
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Posted by benventure on 2009-07-02 23:52:44 | Rating: | Views: 32
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