I slipped, bad and now I’m here again. In this dark pit— My old house once white now a paintless grey the Sun cast a mournful fainting light through the curtains, clean but tired and limp. Utterly lost, folded stapled and mutilated. I’m so familiarized with swallowing compromises with my rheumy, unhappy eyes so stripped off my manhood that even my name is no longer mine to decide, grey or gray? I am whatever you say I am. I weep because I’m weak as I feel the doom surrounding me and stealing life. Yet I muster up what little dignity I find. My nicotine-stained fingers with ragged nails ball up into a fist and when I unclench, I see in them--crinkles of new courage. It’s a beautiful kind of pain. But I’m still stagnant, my insides are crawling with the fear of starting over and it’s cold trying to get out of this hole. Or am I just another crab in the bucket? That you pity and try to ignore? You always look at me with suspicious eyes Never quite believing what I’m saying And I can’t always find the right words to express how I’m feeling. You never even see my significance, I am the quiet charger of your mobile phone and the carpet beneath your warm dirty feet. But this time, when my thoughts become black I am not going to swallow instead, I’m gonna show you my authenticity. Like grey clouds crying out a thunderstorm, I’m gonna make you tense and shake like a gray chain link fence as my words will charge at you like an angry elephant finally finding the light after being chained in the dark and made into clown for so long.
© M. Jay Dixit, September heart-to-hearts, 2021 All Rights Reserved
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