Monday, April 18, 2005

Do you ever feel two dimensional? I think I've turned into a cardboard cut out. Somewhere along the line - possibly years ago - I got steamrollered and all the blood, all the fury was flattened out of me. I think I watched it run down the drain and into the sewer with something like momentary relief. Why, why did I swap salt - purifying, savoursome brine - for dessication? I keep trying to suck moisture and flavour out of things to reconstitute myself, but to no avail. I listen to music and read palimpsest. I look at my palm - can you self-administer the kiss of life? - but nothing seems to trigger more than the faintest flicker, the weakest palpitation of a heart that used to beat loud and fierce like a war drum. I remember what living wild felt like. I remember the exhilaration, the wild swoops from deepest despair to mountain high. I remember how fast and furious the synapses sparked. A year ago I thought it must be the pill that's robbed me of my senses, so I stopped. I was dry for months, I cloistered myself as much as I could - fallow is the word I'd use. I'm allowing myself to be fallow, not daring to recognise I was lying with fallow, when I should have admitted I was sterile. So if it's not an external dosage that's keeping me doped, tell me have you ever felt two dimensional? And if you were flattened, what brought you round?

No comments: