I have things.

Little things.

Pieces of people, places, and times I have been

and resented

and loved

and coveted

and lost.

I think I keep them because they make the ghosts that haunt me tangible-

not so tangible as to be enough to fill the hunger that resides in me to touch them,

but tangible enough to keep me intravenously hooked to things perpetually out of grasp.

Most of them are incomplete things:

A key with no lock

A compass with no direction

A perennially empty mirror.

Together they form a mosaic depicting all the parts of me I’m afraid to look at.

It’s much easier to keep them separate.

If I keep them separate,

then perhaps no one will notice the jagged edges

or the inconsistencies,

or the bloodstains on the parts I keep catching myself on.

I do not hide these things.

Hiding something is the quickest way to make it found.

Instead I display these things, precisely.

No one looks too closely at what they are permitted to see,

I will make billboards of these empty chasms

and they will become part of the cityscape,

ingrained past the point of recognition.

Do not, for one moment, pity me.

I am alone here by my choosing,

I am a museum of extremely limited access

and, should you somehow swindle membership,

you will be given access to the finest sledgehammers,


baseball bats,

and other tools of destruction you could dare to dream of.

Take up arms against a sea of displays, if you should so choose,

and lay waste to every carefully cultivated item

until the museum of me is nothing but a monument

to the aftermath of a moment.

Your membership entitles you to this decision

but know that if you leave,

when you leave,

I will curate a brand new exhibition

and there is nothing you can do

to stop me.

I have things.

Little things.

Would you like to see them?



Posted on April 29, 2016, in Random Life Stuff and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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