extrOverts

graffic introverts

were the least of his trouble

he knew where theyre coming from

and might even be able to guess where theyre going

it was the fucking extroverts that tied him in a knot

extroverts   understatement   didnt say it plainly enough 

more precisely   extrOverts 

they were the bright bulls in the china shop

righteous

entitled

and SHOCKed when he didnt put up with their antics

Whatever youve heard about yourselves

is wrong

That braying   still echoing in my ears    is the braying of asses

And I cant allow you to comport yourselves as such and defame me along the way

All around eyes are coming down on me

Youre all too selfabsorbed  oblivious  to recognize that without you

So  its my job to shut it down

Shut you down

And  you wanna push me  Ill drop a manhole cover on your heads

Ill bury you

Aint nobody gonna dig deep enough to find you

Not deep enough by a long shot

Aw  they looked hurt

though hed seen their mock ups before

to a person they had perfected it

but it was the attached thin skeins of insincerity  -  like the invisible wires Japanese 

model jets streaked the Silver Screen skies on  -  that betrayed them

he plucked them

they sounded like badly tuned harp chords

out of practise

No  not deep enough by a long shot  he reiterated

they were maddening

but they were the type that was the rage that had been the rage for as long as he 

could remember

they were encouraged

to a fault

and to be unlike them

was a knell

suspect   not joyous

there was no convincing otherwise

the pecking order was established

pedagogy ordained it

curriculum made it circumspect

and from kindergarten to boardroom

it was so

so deplete of roundness  counterpoint

the perfect storm

lemmings raining off a cliff 

they fed off one another like incestuous wetnurses

they exhausted him

when he was finally apart

like his brother sister introverts

he sought the fulfillment of silence and aloneness

--   Youre lonely

--   No  Being alone isnt lonely  I cherish being by myself

it didnt and wouldnt compute

they couldnt wrap their hard skulls around that

remaining anxious was the least of his troubles

0115,  Wednesday,  8  1. 14

she inhaled perfumed opium smoke

took it deep into her lungs

soft threads lazed in her mouth

and slipped out between her lips

thin simmering whorls

delicate fingerprints on silver air

                                                                 they blushed his cheeks and throat

caressed the back of his neck

drew his mouth to her

he brushed his lips to hers

                                            breathlessly

the tips of their tongues  aching

touched

his exhale warmly painted her face

then he inhaled shallowly

as she exhaled between her pursed lips

a velvet furrow

gently blowing blue smoke

between his parted lips

the scent  petals of flowers

slipped happily into his lungs

filling them

inhaling through her nose

he felt currents slip

caress his cheeks

he heard them whisper in his ears

her eyes were bright and moist

exhaling he averted his breath

it washed her elegant throat and collarbones

played at her cleavage

her mouth  beckoned his

begged a kiss

a deep   kiss

the perfume mingled in their shared mouths

and wound them up

                                 terribly gentle

                                                        heartbreakingly gentle

touches

they hadnt felt

since babes

1541,  Tuesday,  20  8. 13

School of Hard Knocks

All the things that could have gone wrong 

went wrong

All the things he thought hed surely do                                                                                               

he didnt

All the angst he couldnt imagine existed                                                                                           

did

All the lefts he took                                                                                                                         should have gone right

And when he went right                                                                                                   

he should have gone left

He should have braked                                                                                                                 

rather than gone on

And when he sped away                                                                                      

he should have stopped                                                                                       

as if coldcocked

all too familiar

a broken record                                                                                                                 

spinning around and around and around and                                            

tossing everything from its face that wasnt nailed down

                                                                                             and yet he remained unbroken unbridled                                                                                                             

confident it was only a matter of time before things came to their senses and finally 

caught up with him to play in sync

he didnt do things the hard way 

he did them their hardest way 

if it wasnt strenuous  it wasnt worth doing

he was from the School of Hard Knocks                               

the foundry where he was smelted  poured  and tempered                                             

a dense cruddy ingot comfortably going through things rather than around them . . .

                                             . . . rather than around them   -   THERE!   -   in a nutshell!  -    

in the folded nutmeat cloistered in the hard nut of his skull                                                                                           

                                                                    he was comfortable going through things   

rather than around them                                                                                                  

willfully preferring confrontation to the strategy  perhaps artfully  of turning his cheek

he preferred Didions hardscrabble:

“A place belongs forever to whomever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively”

odd                                                                                                                               

some obsessions

1211,  Thursday,  10  4. 14