blood makes noise

Look up to find him hovering above me.

It startles me.

There was a comfortable nothing there a couple of minutes ago.

There he stands now. Can't stand the stench that is him; the heaviness that embodies him; the sharp weakness that becomes no one but is him. I despise it all.

I look away. Turn up the volume on the music and stare down at my notepad and continue doing what I was before he infringed. He stays there. In fact, he takes a couple of steps forward, places his hands on my desk and leans forward – trying to catch my eye. I pull out an earphone and raise my eyebrows as I look at him. With disgust. And anger. Didn't think I'd feel this when I saw him. But I feel it.

It's funny how he reminds me more of my past than my past itself. Probably because he is that energy. He's smiling now and asking me how the hell I've been. Thinks he can familiarly ask me, "Still stuck on some song are you?" without me reacting. I shake my head. "Oh come on. Bet you are!" I manage to speak, "Not really. Would you mind very much if I finish what I'm doing here?" There's the edge in my voice I can't shave off. A dagger in my hand that I don't want to let go. He steps back like he sees it.

Jesus Christ. He and his lot are so crystallized in their baseness that it's astounding.

I don't wait to see what he does next. Plug the earphone back in and get back to the scribbling. I can't be bothered to be polite. All I know is that he needs to get the fuck out of my cubicle. He eventually does.

And I flip things then. From the disgust mode I slide into something else when I need to feel like I'm warm flesh and racing blood; alive. It's scary how it doesn't take much to get there these days. It's not a good thing. It may seem like a good thing but underneath and inside, I fear it's not a good thing. I realized that a few nights ago. Scared the hell out of me. I panicked and shit. Silenced me for a few hours as I lay curled tightly under a not-big-enough shawl. I thought it would pass – the fear. It didn't. It kept coming at me in waves. I tried to speak but not much would form. Sentences were lost. There were only thoughts. And to utter those was impossible.

The next morning, I was better. Had a restless night but dawn brought some of that self assurance back. It helped. It was okay.

But yesterday and today, I went right for it again. Didn't know how else to get that sensation of just 'being' other than the only way I seem to know now. And it didn't take much. One glance to the right. And it kicked in. I felt the flesh and I felt the blood. The day would be okay. Yesterday was okay. It's funny...it's always a glance to the right...

But it scares the hell out of me. How do I explain that to my mind's mind that keeps telling me to abandon the fear that I can't seem to shake off? I separate myself from the mind's mind – we are two entities that constantly work to co-exist but often fail.

Right now, I don't want to think about it. I have it for now. Or does it have me?

That's what bothers me too. But at the end of it all - what will be, will be. That's really all there is. And what should be.

12/08/08; 11:01am