The Pendulum
These days I spend most of my time
clinging desperately to the weight
at the end of a giant pendulum
In brief moments of clarity I release
the weight only to find I am bound
to it by invisible threads anyway
all that effort for nothing
At the low point
the pressure is unbearable
it's all I can do to breathe
Forcing the blood from my brain
I go mostly deaf, partly blind, frequently mute
losing touch with my own heartbeat
You're advised to keep a safe distance -
we can never be too sure if this will be the time
it finally unhinges and spins wildly out of control
But, oh, the high points
Motionless. Weightless.
Immortal in the only meaningful sense of the word
The revelry isn't bad either
and I can be quite indulgent
but rent is a bitch when the bills come due
you never think about debt until it is staring you in the face
This metaphor is a fairy tale I spun for myself
to make my life seem more meaningful
or important somehow
I need to be at the center of my story
and struggle is the greatest plot point of all
So I say, pile it on!
To this end I have invented some characters
to help move the story along, keep things interesting
and, you know, struggle with
The one I am fondest of is a giant mascot
shaped like a vagina
who comes to visit me at night
About this curious character,
I was telling you how she always
changes shape right before my eyes
At first she appears in her natural ambience
warm, moist, pink
inviting like a mother's doorstep
I move closer and extend my hand
in a friendly gesture
of welcome and manipulation
she's not the only one with games to play
In the beginning we get along fine
we seem to go together
like peas in a pod or hotdog and bun
But before long the freedom and sense of adventure
which lubricated our friendship
and prevented friction has dried up
In fact the whole damn costume is shriveling
developing cracks with pieces flaking off
like leprosy
What is revealed beneath has none of the charm
and it oozes a dark fluid
that smells of rotting flesh
the process only accelerates if you foolishly speak of it aloud
It continues like this for some time
until the sun begins to light the distant horizon
and I can finally get a look at my muse
It's not a pretty picture by this point
but the wreckage is unavoidable and we haven't even
dealt with the futility of our arrangement yet
Before noon we've parted ways
and the dream of last night's charades
already fades under the strain of a throbbing sun
We were victims of inevitability
like so many layers of paint
stripped and bleached out
the point is, like all fairy tales, it's a lie.
This might be obvious from the description
but the mind is a funny thing
and it's best trick is tricking itself
The allure of a rhythmic cycle
with its predictable turns
steadily swinging in my head
Comforts me through the downswing
calming my fevered revulsions
minimizing collateral damage
All the while ensuring that my glory
retains its ephemeral exuberance
which was the allure all along
I imagine the motion creating a vibration
striking a note in eternity
bringing me a bit more of the immortality I crave
if there's one thing I can't stand it's monotony