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Some Candy Talking – 9


We are not alone …


O yes, the stone is hard and sharp and the cold blood is slowly filtering between those clenched fingers as they desperately cling so tightly – the words slow the sensations and dull the feelings, there is always a numbness to the touch, there is a numbness in the air – it does not matter, it has been like that for so long – forever – the moment has yet to become fixed – passivity, there is a refusal to let it go, a refusal to fight anymore and we are safe in the moment, bound so tightly, bound to be and held in such a clever static, stillness … everything moves all around, circulate, only the stones and the fingers are precise and they are held fixed in the rigidity of the stare – don’t let go, do not think, be too afraid to let go, be too afraid to find out what is the truth – even lie in the sand … true lies ways – so, in the end, there is no choice but to remain anchored to the rock … do you doubt, do you believe, do you … deny – what is truth, ask again, refuse the symbolism, no, hold on tight – as long as the pain can be believed there is always hope – hope, don’t laugh, do not let the red sun glow again … don’t let the anchor drift and break the chain … it is so dark … we all need that place, that moment, that belief, that happy place – safety, security in the uniform, no change there, serge, comfortably enduring, surge on … the grip is tight, as always the fear descends, the fingers are clenched until the hands are hurting against the frozen face of the clock, the dead stare, unseeing, impenetrable, fixed and still it seems that something has moved … deceived, betrayed, give in to reality or some such reason to believe … the stone is gone, there is a change, what is in the clutch bag now, were some things cast adrift, panic, all has been taken away – cast adrift, we are all at sea, flounder, panic, don’t make me have to crawl – tearing – reassure, can we fix the moment, yes we can, is it like that day, is it … when the struggle finally breaks, lets loose, is it – no, it is not, there is nothing, only this floundering, only a thrashing panic, struggling to search for something to hold, clutch, something to cling to – don’t you hold your breath, don’t you give in so easily, don’t you ever try – again, the four lifeguards will always let you drown, understand nothing, hold you under, disbelief – save nothing for the swim back … just wait for the kiss of life and I didn’t even know you cared … as if, unbelievable – the chant remains, muttered words that mean everything, in mantra, there is an utter belief in whatever it is that reaches out to touch the chord, the mantraic drone is absolute – a rubber glove, a rubber cross, the rubber at the gate, a string of words that will always pretend to have an internal relationship – playtime – yes, it is the game – rhythmic beating, heart of gold, rhythmic beating, heart of gold – just focus, rhythmic beating, pulsate, focus, them native drums do sound alive and not just with some native love – yet, it is only those bespectacled eyes that are visible, see the rubber, see the cross, see those eyes – yet it is only what one wants to believe that is true, it is only for today – there was no yesterday, can we even be sure if there was  no tomorrow – no one is looking at me, no one is looking … what might the meaning be, what is it you see, is there a choice available – pump, it is here, plump, it is there, those greens and blues, as if young soldiers dressed with care – still bleeding from the open wounds is just some stigmatism – still casting petals on our lives, but might not marigolds march in some weird alliterative step – and yet another late easter weekend looms, hosanna … and the rain comes down … to believe in the feeling, find the biggest boulder, that very stone, the weight to hold you down … believe in truth, believe in life, believe … and yet, as always, the sweetest dreams are still not real …


We are all alone …


Breathe …