deepundergroundpoetry.com
Uncontrolable
Two much noise in my head this morning, nothing poetic or productive, more like the static from an old, broken tube-style television, incoherent and distracting.
I'm sitting at the counter of The Waffle-house with my baby cousin and her dad, the one on Peoria, that my aunt worked at when I was a kid. The windows have Closing scrawled across the front of them.
I did my last load of speed before we left the house, and my eyelids are still heavy, my tolerance is ridiculously high now, likely due to the recklessly huge loads I've been doing daily since my life got turned upside down in early December.
One of the waitresses and I make eye contact every so often, and she smiles like she knows something I dont, she's pretty, even in the poor quality of the ancient fluorescent light, looking almost ready to cry from the thankless pressure of her job.
She looks like she might be tweakin a little too, she shares my greasy complexion. I halfway entertain the thought that maybe I should ask for her number but decide not to because when I look at her I see anothers face, just like every other pretty girl turns into her when I start thinking this way.
My sister tells me that her and Riah arent friends anymore, that Riahs different, she says she's cold and heartless when she was always so kind and sweet before. I asked if it was my fault and sis tells me Riah confessed that even before I left town she was only still seeing me so she could see my "brother" Pudge.
The side of me that I tried to bury when I left the club and the 1% life behind is clawing his way to the surface,furious at the possibility one of my oldest friends schemed behind my back to get with my girl. I fear for him if its true.
The rageful one bellows in my ear "You cant let him get away with that shit, even ma and jacob have told him about your "job" while you were gone."
I deliberately put off the calls I have to make, because I know what the rageful me is capable of, and that the kind and gentle person In me isnt strong enough to stop it from happening. Im not naieve enough to think that even if he is guilty he'll admit to it.
The thought of him lying to me is as bad as the thought of him screwing the girl Im strung out over, and the consequences could be as deadly.
I'm sitting at the counter of The Waffle-house with my baby cousin and her dad, the one on Peoria, that my aunt worked at when I was a kid. The windows have Closing scrawled across the front of them.
I did my last load of speed before we left the house, and my eyelids are still heavy, my tolerance is ridiculously high now, likely due to the recklessly huge loads I've been doing daily since my life got turned upside down in early December.
One of the waitresses and I make eye contact every so often, and she smiles like she knows something I dont, she's pretty, even in the poor quality of the ancient fluorescent light, looking almost ready to cry from the thankless pressure of her job.
She looks like she might be tweakin a little too, she shares my greasy complexion. I halfway entertain the thought that maybe I should ask for her number but decide not to because when I look at her I see anothers face, just like every other pretty girl turns into her when I start thinking this way.
My sister tells me that her and Riah arent friends anymore, that Riahs different, she says she's cold and heartless when she was always so kind and sweet before. I asked if it was my fault and sis tells me Riah confessed that even before I left town she was only still seeing me so she could see my "brother" Pudge.
The side of me that I tried to bury when I left the club and the 1% life behind is clawing his way to the surface,furious at the possibility one of my oldest friends schemed behind my back to get with my girl. I fear for him if its true.
The rageful one bellows in my ear "You cant let him get away with that shit, even ma and jacob have told him about your "job" while you were gone."
I deliberately put off the calls I have to make, because I know what the rageful me is capable of, and that the kind and gentle person In me isnt strong enough to stop it from happening. Im not naieve enough to think that even if he is guilty he'll admit to it.
The thought of him lying to me is as bad as the thought of him screwing the girl Im strung out over, and the consequences could be as deadly.
Published 6th Mar 2013
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