Saturday, May 9, 2015

Less Grave Matters

I want to pick up the phone
but it's spiritual Russian Roulette.
A direct line to love and regret.
I ache to dial your number
but it's emotional suicide,
In a place where love & logic collide.
To hear that voice on the other end of the line!
To make a choice and travel back in time.
In a phone box late at night
under the pouring rain and street light.
The penny drops, my heart stops
I thought you may not be there!
My throat closes, my eyes water
it's not you....it's.....her!
-Penknife, "The phone box"

4 comments:

Jen Brimmage said...

ugh.
I hate those feelings...

-FJ said...

The trade between intimacy and social distance is never easy, even when you're born into a specific social compact (family/ kin), let alone trying to "extend" one (love/ marriage).

Jen Brimmage said...

hehe. FJ. you describe it so clinically.

No, it's not easy.

It's ridiculously difficult.

I feel like all I do sometimes is apologize to the people I love. :(

-FJ said...

Which is one of the reasons "socialism" will never replace "capitalism". There's enough "guilt" already woven into the "social contract" to choke a horse. The LAST thing we want is to start requiring people to perform seppuku for every minor failure in meeting one's "social obligations".