Exotica

“You have to convince yourself that this person has something hidden that you have to find.” (…) although eventually, you end up retreating to glass. if you could do it all again,would you? time to shave; peer through the looking glass, adjust your face, rub your chin, look tolerable. peer through again. there’s something inside of there that’s intangible, locked away from any sort of possible touch. unlock it and you’ll find the most terrifying of secrets; terrifying not because of any sort of implied horror, but because it’s been here all along, and you didn’t even know it. notice the way you observe an egg. remember how you abandoned your nest. the days are loaded with moments like this. everybody knows. “Where are you headed?”- “Uh, downtown.” time to attend the ballet of hidden angels; the ones that bask in the fluorescent lights with beauty and absolutely no shame at all. the ones that have that sweet, special fragrance reminiscent of fresh flowers blossoming in the spring light. the ones that tell another they have a shameful history and an uncertain future ahead of them. the ones that don’t know of their responsibility in the lives they lead. the ones that have never seemed to be able to let their inner child fade. the ones that have never adjusted to life as an adult. a special innocence; found in their tartan skirts and that black blouse. the ones that can’t bear to be touched, don’t you even think about touching them.  look at all the lonely people making their way through the streets; budging through dusty alleyways with a specific goal in mind. unique, personalized to their own realities that can’t ever be revealed. look at the way they stride, aware of all the cold eyes on their face. out here’s an exotic jungle of troubled folk that can’t seem to get their shit together. read these words. “Well.. as you get older, you become aware the people you meet, and the person you are, is carrying a certain amount of baggage.. and that baggage creates tension.”- “So what do you do about it?” look at the man on the stage; reading off pathetic remarks of all these tantalizing angels, claiming to know all about the mysteries of their world. commenting only on their shell. look at the way his gaze seems to be projected on every crevice of the club. if only you knew. “There seems so many places where you can hide something in this country.” notice the way she dances for us, moving her gentle hands across her body, smoothing her legs, looking directly at your eyes every second of the way. notice the way the light reflects off these walls, scaling the room and eventually landing on her pretty skirt. notice the way she undresses. it’s all important. remember the way the man on the stage enunciated his remarks. remember the way his words lingered when talking specifically about that angel. was there something behind all this? it felt like, his intentions ran a little wilder compared to with all the others. what is it? remember the fields; oh how far they seem now. remember how we laid upon the grass. remember how the flies buzzed and bit our arms. remember the way we opened up about our day to day lives to each other. remember how i told you i felt like i was cursed; cursed to have everything around me bound to slip away at any minute. and how you then tried to reassure me. that was where it all began, how it all led to this moment. remember that fucking loud bang and how that daughter’s body just rolled along the hill. no one seemed to be able to forget that. everybody knows. “How can someone even think of doing something like that?” remember that tune you used to play on the piano? remember how we used to listen to the radio together? now you just have those big headphones on, tight to the point you hear no signal but your own. it’s like i’m not even there. it’s like i bore you. tell me what i have to do to get myself across to you. you think this is normal, what we do? how we can’t even communicate normally anymore? you think i’ll be okay? oh brother. you have no clue. absolutely none at all. i’ve had too many special things taken away from me. godspeed to you, my friend. “We’re here to entertain, not to heal. There’s other places for that.” notice how tense your fingers get whenever i confront you. notice the way you’re caged in a self-imposed prison; unable to view anyone else for who they are or understand the ways they get by. notice the way you’re absolutely incapable of viewing someone’s actions as not directed towards yourself. like how you expect somebody to answer your rhetorical questions. notice the way you view everyone you meet as another pebble in the continuous stream of your memory. notice the way you can’t even seem to comprehend basic intimacy or common connection; relying only on $5 dollar bills and you-give i-take transactions (if you do this favor for me, i’ll do that favor for you). notice the way you act as an authority of surveillance among the masses of people you hurt. notice the way you convince yourself that things were meant to be better. your days slip by you, but that’s what they’re supposed to do. you never really seemed to realize that this is just how it goes. only now that the foundations appear to crumble do you see your own hell for what it is. and now you may ask yourself: where did this start?why was i chosen to be like this?how did my life get to this point?when did that gun make it’s way into the drawer?what happens if i make a little touch, nothing too drastic?is this where i see my future?who’s asking me to stay? “I don’t know I… just felt like I was supposed to do something with my time.” why are you looking away from all this?feel your way through the thorns,and go back home.you’re only ever just a dream away.