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the in-between: mum's the word


I'm sleepless and numb.

I know there is hope because I looked away from all the violent scenes, even the subtly painful ones. I could not bear to see pain so up close, inches away from me on the screen.

I look at people and I feel nothing. Absent. I look at the one I used to love and I feel loss and lost. Cold.

I kiss. I sleep. I work. I touch. I eat. I pee.

It's all mechanical now. It's all procedure. 

My only joy is riding the bike through the streets, I only stop for red lights and only sometimes. Partial freedom. Unearned, but paid for. So I feel free.

I look at people in the metro and I know that we could be okay if we had more space between us. I look at eyes not meeting, hips touching. I put the volume louder and hold my breath. What is this sickness of the people? How much space do I need to look someone in the eye and smile?

I'm far, far away. Nobody calls me. I slow my breath, close my eyes and keep my hiding place secret. I don't want to know that I'm hiding. And hiding what? From whom?

How can you show truth? How can you show a big word with lots of meaning? How can you show an intention, an intention that wavers, that runs ahead, that slips away?

Blank page. Black hole. White blindness.

I don't want to be this way. I don't need to be this way. I could be better. I would be better off on my bicycle going off into the distance forgetting who I ever was and ever wanted to be. 

Numb like numb gums, sad like lone cum, dead like chewed gum...

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