Post by Raenius on Sept 11, 2009 2:44:23 GMT -5
You ever hear that saying, “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry”?
I have. Many times. My sister used to say it any time mother was so high that she pissed or shit herself. Or when the police came by with uncle Ronnie, who’d been found somewhere else wearing nothing but a sock over his cock and balls, shouting at people that pigeon was his favourite meal of the day.
Me? I’ve never had any trouble choosing between the two. Ever. Someone kicks you in the scrote? You cry. Someone falls, hits their head and drowns on their own vomit? You laugh.
Never understood that saying. Never once. Until today.
Oblivious to my own oblivion, I am nothing and nowhere.
Somewhere…
It’s not that I can’t swim. Or wont swim. It’s that the thought of doing anything other than float, here, never forms in me.
Really, I’m not even content. Yet I languish.
In this river, this ocean of self-indulgence, I feel nothing. Hear or see nothing. I can’t speak. I don’t know that I’m in pain. That I lost. That my brothers are missing. That my own work against me.
My breathing’s so slow I don’t even notice that I do it.
Just this once, I’d love to know whether to laugh or to cry.
I have. Many times. My sister used to say it any time mother was so high that she pissed or shit herself. Or when the police came by with uncle Ronnie, who’d been found somewhere else wearing nothing but a sock over his cock and balls, shouting at people that pigeon was his favourite meal of the day.
Me? I’ve never had any trouble choosing between the two. Ever. Someone kicks you in the scrote? You cry. Someone falls, hits their head and drowns on their own vomit? You laugh.
Never understood that saying. Never once. Until today.
Oblivious to my own oblivion, I am nothing and nowhere.
Somewhere…
It’s not that I can’t swim. Or wont swim. It’s that the thought of doing anything other than float, here, never forms in me.
Really, I’m not even content. Yet I languish.
In this river, this ocean of self-indulgence, I feel nothing. Hear or see nothing. I can’t speak. I don’t know that I’m in pain. That I lost. That my brothers are missing. That my own work against me.
My breathing’s so slow I don’t even notice that I do it.
Just this once, I’d love to know whether to laugh or to cry.
