I’ve decided to tear up the truce we signed yesterday.
- The fault line and the fissure
- Tourette’s that never ends
- The flinch when people stare at me
- The mourning for what morning used to bring
- The bridge that gives way to the plunge
- Quixote without Dulcinea
- The hidden flaw in the priceless diamond
- The pills before the prayers
- The lie that should never be uttered
- A tone-deaf symphony
- The sword that never gets pulled out of the stone
- The theory without the test
- Abelard without Heloise
- The fumbled film reel between acts
- The 200 lb deadlift
- The collision in sight of the finish line
- The tears that will not dry
- The book without an author
- The frilly, laughable, adorable, periwinkle threat level
- The elongated shadow
- The banshee without an audience
- Nagina without nag
- The dependence on an outline
- The deck with no aces
- The lifting gloves
- The White Rabbit with nowhere to be
- The resolution without the resolve
- The finger that points at everyone else
- A tongue twister with no vowels
- The reification of everything worthless
- The tic without the talk
- The selfish
- The subconscious kamikaze
- The lack of compassion
- The lazy
- The easy way out
- The crack in the looking glass
- The typo in the tattoo
- The extra gravity that tries to pin me to my bed
- The abuser
- The lack of focus
- The dwindling attention span
- Me first
- The Gatling Gun full of blanks
- The puffed-up blowfish
- The final failure that kills the dream
- The incomplete
You will find me an incredibly disagreeable playmate, particularly when you’re not invited to the game. Come closer. Reach for me again, please. Enjoy your stumps.
I am driven by a fury that you can only pretend at and I am propelled onward by a love that makes me stronger than anything you can imagine.
Love of life. Love of work. Love of people. Love of becoming. Love of self. Love of breath. Love of love. Love of family. Love of writing. Love of lifting and breaking things. Love of challenges. Love of my son and my wife and my parents and my siblings and my friends and my books and my readers and my ideas and of all of the days and years and decades to come that WILL NOT INCLUDE YOU.
My joys are many, but none is more exquisite than the feel of your rancid carcass beneath my heels.
I will twist your many heads off, knock your teeth out, and crush them between my own fangs. I’ll dance around the bonfire where you crumble and blacken like parchment after I ignite it with the giddy thrill of another day where I am more than I was yesterday.
You want my tears? I cry acid rain. Give me a kiss. Welcome to the nuclear winter of my loathing.
Stay away from me and mine. I have empires to build, and you are not included in the plans, but if you persist, there is a dungeon reserved for you where you will wear a dunce cap and each fish heads for the rest of my life. You can share your cage with Unhappiness, Regret, Wishful Thinking, Bitterness, Victimhood, Defeat, and Apathy.
As long as I live, you will only exist beneath my feet. You have only the power I give you, and I give you only enough to slink away, if you go now.
I am a planet. My stubbornness is the meteor which is entering the atmosphere.
Move or be caught between us. On second thought, hold still.
Author’s note: I wrote this in about five minutes, basically in the order I thought the words, during the worst hours of this week. When I was done, I was shaking and my lovely hair was standing on end. It still hasn’t come down. It was good for me. Now I’ll calm down.
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