16. my mind is like a snow storm, the feeling is of sprinkling
my mind is like a snow storm, the feeling is of sprinkling, it is very white & very extreme, but it isn't cold because the snow is fake, & i'm trapped on the inside, tapping on the plastic dome, 'i'm so sick of it, i'm so sick of it', the numbness & constant sprinkling, this is the madness of it, this feeling of numbness & constant sprinkling, meanwhile, another friend from a similar background was lying on her lounge in her dingy little house in another suburb of melbourne, & she says she has been slobbering on herself, saying over & over again, 'it's so cruel, it's so cruel, it's so cruel', whereas i have carried my snow storm out onto the back verandah to slobber, so that my new lover won't hear & feel responsible or guilty when he can't help me, she, instead, has been slobbering by herself on her lounge, with her two dogs looking on in sympathy, she has been making a big wet patch like a sad child, or a cat that has got up there & pissed, driving that moisture down into the cushion, & she doesn't ring me although she could have, & i don't ring her either, in the same way that i don't disturb my new lover who is sleeping, we just slobber into our separate little blizzards in the city, which leads me to think of a city of slobberers, & of all the other poor poor adults who may be slobbering away |
