Hermit Crab and the Million Step Mountain


I find I’m right where I put myselfI’d forgotten where I’d left me

I’m digging around in the muck of it all

Trying to find as many things as possible to hate about the women that I love in hopes that the hermit crab feelings that have chosen me for their shelly home will vacate me entirely and I can be left to my own devices unfettered by feelings of longing and loss and loving and ache. I tossed myself into the sea, fitting then that I wash up on shores and marine life emotions scramble from rock to rock pecking at me with hard claws and many’d jaws. I’ll be nibbled up by some sea stork and dropped into chimney’s as a child, the home’s the thing I’m afraid of most and undiapered I’ll run full tilt as babies do in first weakling steps ‘nto the world and forget my past to accept the future rising mightily before me in the foreground. I’m playing chicken with myself betting on pipe dreams I play for keeps and there ain’t nothin’ that’ll get in my way, and it makes me cry that nothing is so important, it’s lonely at the top and I’m not even there yet, I’m just on the first step of the million step mountain that reaches into the heavens of history so I’ll be remembered so I’ll make something, so I’ll have fun forgetting everyone, I’ve got two feet, I place each one in front of the other without any reference to the ground, I put one foot in front of the other in the hopes that maybe I’m going somewhere, and forget all the sorrow of each last footstep and smile with the excitement of the next, it’s exhausting the climb on the million step mountain, I’m tired from moving an inch, one step in the right direction, I break my heart with each attack on inertia, I’m letting go of all this potential I’m scared embracing the kinetic it goes, I go, where will I carry me? I’m so frightened, so alone.
My thoughts fly off to a happy place safe and nestled into the arms familiar, and I know that safety nets are only traps I set for myself but can’t you wait another day? Can’t it wait til morning? I’m tired and stressed from all this undressing of self already in the moment I’ve disrobed. “I cannot go on” I cry into the deaf night dramaticism doesn’t help at all. Not really, pouting in my Sunday gloom best suited for these nights fancying horrors a modern life tosses at me mixed greens and candied debts with crumbled health and a spritz of panic zest, I cannot think “cannot” it’s another trap I lay before me, I’ll rub myself lazily to induce vomiting streams responsibility it seems, examining the remains of my daze. I scrape away dizzy spells delapidating unconscious intended negligence on my part shooting as many toes off my foot as I walk the halls of now remembered loneliness and terror at having to actually live my life. I’m on the precipice of change and wild and exciting seems far off feelings of what each moment should feel like, felt like when I first hiked myself over the crag of past indulgences, look back down to find comfort in melancholia, suppressing ambitions to feed the ice cream munching munster in my self defense mechanisms protecting myself against a world of hope and wonder. How dare I shine so brightly, brilliantly when I did so much of it wrong, I lied it wasn’t brilliance I left too much there and now found wanting i scrimp and penny my way to the bedpost floors of what friends will have me for friends sake. I hate the heat, I hate the hate, I heat it up and pour it in my cup to honey over and smell sedatively seducing reduction of vinegar, crab apples, smelling salts and cracked shell eggs. The compost of my deformity grows things in a twisted way fromout the blackened swordfish ground the refuse refuses to neglect me protects me with a sense of self loathing impenetrable from even the slyest of wolves I fatten pig myself over engorgement dreams of a pints of ice cream life. I dip my spoon further into the despair and lick it dry of all depressing anecdotes. Delicious, this is what everyone must have wanted for me when they said “I’ll remember you when…” dot dot dot ellipsis my life please, and pick up where the good times left off, like old friends that never missed a day when meeting again after decades. You’ve all gone- away.


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