To say I am numb is an understatement, anesthetized by the switchable scotch tape left in the middle of the tamborine, naked like salty fish left unsalted. I want to scream but have no voice; the screws were left on the file cabinet. I want to react but I am frozen; the ice cube left on the kitchen counter refuses to melt. I want to be mad but can’t get myself to do it; I am stoic, left without fire. I want to forgive but I am too perplexed to even set the table; the utensils were left on the drawer. I want to wipe away the tears but can’t get past the hurt to do it; I am too dejected. So, I am bitter but it is not transcending as bitterness but as a cool and green avocado, the romaine salad on my plate. I am stuck, stupefied, dumbfounded, left to say my Amen’s, all of the above bungled up into one basket of life is what you make it, so what? Keep going. I am lived and living but a believer.
I found myself by the computer around three AM, surrounded by boxes and debris, film, camera in one hand, glasses on the other, paper flying, open boxes scattered all over like one bad omelette. The jolly tune was banging louder then my crackled joint but it wasn’t clicking in. My blood high on something would not let up, jetting through my veins like misguided lighting. My voice praising Him, cracking, praising Him, blasted thorough the roof penetrating the neighbors walls and landing at the bottom of an empty pool. Prescriptions weren’t written just yet but emotions were running wild. The clock on the wall left without batteries was yupping anxious words at the turtle but the pointers were gusting briskly before the police could handcuff it. I looked around and it was just I and the stillness, exhausted, screaming at the lunacy to split, to no avail as no one would reply back long enough to leave a message.