Caricamento in corso...

May 13th, 2005

I flex my artistic rites. there will be no poetic timing other than the spoken word in this poem. If you finish it I'll be impressed.

We sat there, my wife and me, across from each other at the wooden dining room table.
It had only three chairs because it was small and pushed up against the wall, making it stable.
Our tear filled eyes locked on each other in the silence of the houses time and space.
The air about us was stagnant and unfriendly, making my breath sound out of place.
A casualty,
There I sat, lost in the icy shock of reality.
 
It was at that moment that time seemed to pause and extend itself into an echo of an instant,
Holding only a tendril of time so that I could feel the ripping of my heart, without distance.
Slowly, each fiber would violently snap and retract control,
Allowing more blood to gush out over my soul.
 
Time caught up to me in the sound form of tick tocks,
Coming, but a few feet away, from the living room clock.
Just to remind me where I was on this day,  
Just to bring me back into the moment I so desperately wanted to escape.
 
I had to break the lock our eyes held, so I looked in nervous gesture,
To see my hands pressed against the table, fingers fanned, nails white with pressure.
We shared so many moments here now all rotten,
Still, so many times here which will never be forgotten.  
 
Memory after memory began flooding my thoughts.
 
Memories of times…
Times, we talked of life and shared our stories, here.
Times, secrets never told before were told, here.
Times, we sat and laughed about nothing, here.
Times, we just ate in quite, here.
Times, we would get caught in lust and test the table, here.
…and now, this moment I can’t seem to escape, here.
 
My distance became apparent because she reached out to tap my hand from our miles apart.
I slowly pulled my gaze to meet hers, which only intensified the sad pounding of my heart.
A heart that felt beaten lashed and lacerated into a useless piece of meat only beating to be abused.
Only beating to be used.
 
Her next words were slow, they poured from her mouth like cough syrup,
“Honey, Dennis, I want a divorce…” I know she said more but not clear enough,
Because it became a shy whisper against the roar that had begun within me.
That had begun uselessly.  
 
In that moment, every feeling and every emotion inside of me became alive.
It seemed like the voices of my feelings began fighting amongst each other, hungry, deprived,
And all trying to enter my conscience realm of thought to decide my next impulse.
The pain from her words pulsed heavy within my temples,
 
And I could feel the inner battle engulf my mind, my being, my whole.
The voices of pain, the stronger emotion broke through my wall of self-control,
As I began to feel weak.
As tears began to run cold on my cheeks.
 
 
I stood up quickly,
The momentum from my legs stiffening,
Tossed my chair a few feet behind me.
She stood almost as quickly as me,
I could see fear developing in her face as she stepped back and away.
I slammed my hands back down on the table, thumbs caressing the grain,
I lifted the table up over my head, and threw it as hard as I could
Toward the living room landing with a loud crack from the wood,
Making the cats and dog scatter off under Wal-Mart futon.
She took another step back, this time towards the knives, but never reached for one.
 
I had no intention of harming her heart or her body.
I was just reacting to the pain throbbing throughout me,
Flowing throughout the deepest parts of my soul, now despised.
My mind was racing; she stared at me with fear filled eyes.
And, it was in that second I realized, nothing I could possibly say or do would help me because,
Nothing I could say or do would make everything go back to the way it once was.
 
I wanted to lash out at something, I needed to lash out at something,
But with all the pain in the world I couldn’t bring myself to touch her. Not For ANYTHING!
 
I let out a scream that lasted the full existent of air in my lungs, and cursed God, lost as always,
And I spun around and started marching down the hallway.
My feet pounded the carpet so hard I expected plums of dust to raise beneath them.
But none the less it was my minds fabrication.
 
I threw open the door to my music studio slamming it against the wall,
Leaving a door knob size hole in the dry wall.
I stomped over to my collection of 350 vinyl records and,
Pulling the crates towards me, I plumped down on my black futon.
I pulled the first record that touch my fingers out slowly and stared at it,
Stared madly.
My fingers feeling it’s indentations and grooves. I laughed.
I began to fold the record in halve until the thing snapped,
And shattered in to tiny pieces soaring in different directions all over the room.
My own hearts tune.
 
The instant satisfaction was surprisingly more then I expected. Quenched my thirst.
I pulled out another record, and upon bending, it shattered just as easily as the first,
Some of the pieces hitting my face, stinging my cheeks, making me want more.
So, I broke more, one after another, each with a loud snap followed by A melodic score.
The pieces clacking against their destination, reflecting my soul.
My mood changing from hurt and confused, to enraged and out of control.
 
I saw her appear at the door with a sad disappointed look,
Covering her eyes as some pieces flew past her foot.
She stood there for a moment and watched as my speed increased.
Snap, shatter, clank tink clack, each and every record was my souls release.
 
The floor began filling with the mostly black shards of the records she bought me for Christmas,
The records I loved so dearly, the records that I could, as easily as she was doing to me, dismiss.
I heard her sigh as she walked away. As she ran.
I continued until not a single record piece was bigger than my hand,
Until every vinyl laid in pieces covering my floor, my lap, and touched every wall,
Covered my turntables, and the space just outside my door in the hall.
 
The house went quiet, and my breath once again sounded out of place.
I sat there as time once again drew itself out to a standstill of space.
And, I felt the snapping of each fiber of my heart,
Ripping apart.
 
I figure everything in the universe has a snapping point worth revealing,
From a bending record, to a fragile planet, to a relationship, and my feelings.
Feeling that could be seen in my face, herd on my breath, feelings to be owned.
By me, alone.

(2009)

True. Unfortunately. That was 9 years ago.

#DivorceLove

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