Don’t be flip

Don’t be FLIP with me girl. I wasn’t.. I was only trying to be there.. Stop it, Shut that big fat mouth of yours. I was only trying to.. Fuck you, I can fire you anytime I want. Usual user.


It’s there, it’s now seared into my mind. But I thought I had broken my memory. I guess not. I erase them manually, a bunch of clicks- that’s all anything takes now, right? I do it as fast I can, and go about my night. After all. I don’t know what I feel, these things brush off me, there they go, they are falling, falling fast, landing into splashes on a night of perfectly straight air. I’ll hold these things against me, looking for some discrepancy or reason, because to me it’s all personal. You shoved me in the street? Personal. You told me I was pretty? Well, no, that wasn’t personal, you just said that because you had to. You don’t get it? I decide what’s personal and what’s not. And for those of you that don’t say anything at all- well I remain completely undecided about you. I don’t know what your holding back, and if you seem like you aren’t really getting what you need- well, something in me feels like I should try, even if I stream down the wrong lane with the wrong step. I’ve lost all the things I can’t replace. Noboby understands the space anymore. My expectations are too high. They all argue with one another, these people whose traces stay in my head, because each way of fixing me coincides with another approach.


I run with the night, I don’t think I feel pain. But it rubs off in the dark, like empty space. I didn’t get a chance to tell her the funny stories. They are gone now. Those moments. She is hurting me so she feels like equilibrium is restored. Whose equilibrium? She lives on the dark side of the moon and I- while I don’t even LIKE the sun- I tried to show her what gravity felt like. And the anchor I lost in the shipwreck, they say I can get it back, and I don’t believe them. Even more, they claim I can use it when I want, another lie strewn in there like stripes on lollipops.


I always say the wrong thing, I do. I’m just trying to fix myself. I’m reciprocal, she promises. I’ll send you so much back. That wasn’t why I did any of it, but it hurt to have a promise burned. Excuses lead to excess lead to a life unlived, why does anybody need any of it.

Oh, I don’t give a fuck she gets them to chant

And their detachment is a different kind of pain

satin turned to stone

I feel you in all your chic black and rage

But i’m too tired to bother anymore

Some people get a lot more than fingers chopped off at your steel block

The isolation and loneliness doesn’t count, they are supposed to make you

Though I can’t really translate the investment correctly, the death seems premature.

Stillborn, really, your sadness strikes me as too pale, and I don’t know if there are fingernails yet.

How do you cry without eyelashes?


Try me!

Make me chillingly optimistic.

I don’t recognize the laughter.

The city is closed by the

shivering magnets


They don’t want to watch

And I keep my head up but the eyes flicker down

I’ll lose, and I don’t care about losing or winning but

when I only have my self left to gamble

the game changes

the tune jams, how much shrieking can you desire and still have desire

You never honor the border of my nightmares for that is where you you love speechlessness the most…


You strive for personalization, and when it doesn’t work, you claim your own depersonalization,

so far out there that it’s an attack against my experience. People never mock your intelligence, you don’t give them the chance, their cut off so far that they are standing out there learning there is no us anymore. The threat to humanism is not irrational anymore, so I don’t know how they don’t feel it. Let’s steal all the shoes. And see who kills themselves, not because they have problems, but because they didn’t know any other response to modern life. And then if they do, it must be not their own toxic energy bubbling, but something they have over you, always something to hold over you. Nothing. There is nothing for me to hold over anyone, not even to keep them stay. And I’ve been here as long as I know and love is something you look at with something apart from a flashback, is it really to be despised…


Chairs are standing one by one on the shoulders of greats and I don’t want to go on anymore.


They took away all the safe places in my mind. . .Really, it was genius, I’d say, if we were still together. Thought I had to be just as bad as you felt you were. For real? No. Not. I had to be worse. I knew when to stand down, not because my operational commitment was in question, but because we both knew that the ones are primed to find weakness know all about weakness through personal means.

This is such a mess. Don’t be flip. I’ll fire you.

Funny. I never thought about contamination. Exposure. Least of all, I thought of pain. I don’t know if I even counted before I plunged into the icy waters of your veins. Did I remember to bring headgear? Did I consider that this already felt difficult? Even while falling, I have control.

People with control issues- I don’t know if I get them… I mean, really. Trying to control the uncontrollable. Is it a pasttime? Or just a genetic trait? Are all excessive or dominant gene traits considered psychiatric problems with treatment plans these days.

Trying to control- it was part of your system, your make-up. Even your openess was as trick of camaflouge. Maybe if you just gave me a settlement. We could think of me as somebody you hired to find the only weaknesses there were in your defense system so that now, nobody can get in. It was the last job. “You or nobody,” you tell me.


Your ex would kill me. (Do I mean who you used to be or who you used to know?) Not that there are any vulnerabilities left for them to take. but there are a few for you to take…


Dragged my deepest vulnerability out of the darkness of the quiet ocean depths. I thought I was going to see light, warmth, things I had never known. Instead it was just gasping for air and flapping on the sand. If they had to answer anything I asked, what would I ask? Well, just knowing that there are answers to things and that they care enough to answer (and to ask)- it quiets my mind. I don’t know if I would need to ask anything. Would it make me less? Less of a person, less of an interesting person or just less interested? Well, possibility is possible but I don’t know if that’s the point.


What do you think the point is?


I can’t tell you what to do. but they are all wrong. All wrong for you.




Don’t bother. Leave me the fuck alone. I don’t give a fuck.


But I.. I keep trying.. and I keep.. I keep..


Don’t be flip.






This entry was posted in abandonment, all that I can't tell them..., Effy. Bookmark the permalink.

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