On the Listless Advantages of Physical Pain versus the Hardness of the Incorporeal Spirit - A Review

I ache from my throat to the pit of my stomach. The reason for the pain eludes me. A controlled diet and enough sleep have been getting me to a place where I can tolerate my stomach's recent coup. But for whatever reason, today it has mounted an attack stronger than ever before.

I stand on the train with one arm crossing my gut, the other hanging from a metal pole. I'm putting as much pressure as I can to alleviate the symptoms. But then pain brings nausea, and the nausea brings dizziness, so even with only one stop left. I take a seat at the next stop. Blinking hard, as if that helps.

Soon, I'm staring out the window and I'm feeling like I'm floating now. Feeling disconnected from the physical anchors and like I might just drift away.

And I do. I'm taken to some roof at night, where I watch the stars that seem to blow with the wind. Where I watch planes dance in front of those waving stars and the full moon. I've been laying there for hours.

Just waiting for someone better to come along and fix my loneliness.

But he stays inside. Hidden within the dodged glances I catch in my periphery when I'm in front of the mirror. And I've always had problems with mirrors.

The memory shatters and I'm back in my head, getting off the train.

I'm walking now. Down the stairs. Across the turnstile. Back down the stairs. And to the street. My foot hits the pavement and I'm uneasy. Off balance already from the hot twisting knife in my gut.

There I think about how the band Palace Music sounds like walking home. And how your touch can feel like scratchy yarn. And there finally, I put my guard back up and put a hardness to my step and walk.

I think about how I used to be building a wall around the garden of me, and how now I only do it to match yours. And then I think about how that's called a stalemate. And how defense doesn't beat defense it just tests patience. But I've never been one to go on the offensive. That's not to say I'm passive. In fact, I'm anything but, well. At least lately.

But sometimes that disattachedness can take over. And that's when I let those garden walls grow high. But soon the ivy comes and crumbles me from the outside. But it'll take years for that.

Until then, I'll walk with an impossible suredness. And a false confidence covering an intense pain deep in the heart of my stomach.

Thanks for reading.