Eternized. [2015]

I try.  I mean, with the distraction and all, it’s tough, but…  I try, nonetheless.  

No need for an attorney.  No need to address the emptiness or the airways.  Awareness. Awareness is key.  And I run errands all day, sometimes into the night, and the journey is often long and uneasy, and the birds are unkind, to say the least.  But the sentences that manifest: these are wonderful and synthetic.  Modern.  Yes, I’d say modern, if left with no other option.  Modern, or maybe western.  Breathe.  This is the way into outright lies or awareness.  And I am left brewing utterances in the Western Railway Terminal, smiling a pale smile, looking into mirrored windows as the train pulls away.  And I am breathing.  There can be no doubt that I am breathing, and moving my mouth, and saying little things, and smiling.  And my utterances are enough to fill a teacup.  I am breathing and aware.  Aware. 

Numb.  

Aware of two men in the room.  A white room.  Two men dressed in white smocks, in the same white room as me.  And cauterizing.  And I can smell myself cooking as they cauterize their work, as they run their errands down my leg, into my slipper-sock, and then out west.  Breathe.  And a woman, a tall, modern woman, perhaps my attorney or a bird, alternates between outright lies and mirrored emptiness.  Breathe.  And strands of her hair are sentences unto themselves.  Beautifully constructed sentences unto themselves.  Themselves and an uneasy, modern awareness.  Or a journey, to say the least.  I smell erroneous and uneasy, or synthetic, or intriguing.  Maybe.  Maybe intriguing.  This is perhaps the last time I’ll be this wonderful, this aware and intriguing.  And I can’t remember whether I left my keys in the pale-blue bird dish by the door, or in the teacup, or in my attorney’s attaché.  Breathe.  

I mean, I am distracted, after all.  But I try.