Misappropration for a Nightmare

This is a short passage I typed in distress one night a half-a-decade ago as a sense of promise devolved into excess:

I climbed up the door, and opened the stairs

I said my pajamas and put on my prayres

I turned off the bed and crawled into the light

And all because you kissed me goodnight

*

For some diabolical, self-inflicted mind trick reason, I thought the words were mine.

I savored them as much, I clung to them as much.

*

It was soon revealed by a good friend the the words were not of me. It was the chorus to some old song, author unknown, but googleable. Turns out my mind at the time was three pounds of tuna casserole, housed in a head of gloaming dread.

To this very day, I do not know how that poem/chorus wormed into my brain. 

K is well known and documented for dirty tricks.

Anyway...

*

I did not force this memory into my mind. I ran into it like a fog tonight while walking with a stranger leashed to a running beagle on Oakland Street. She had politely asked if she could pass me on the narrow sidewalk. Her puppy was in full trot.

I make way for all puppies.

She passed with a smile but I kept catching up to her because her big tugging puppy kept stopping to sniff with the instinct of an elated animal in the wild finally freed of condo and pavement. Dogs have a nose for pee in the weirdest places.

*

Arriving home tonight was less thrilling than last night. There were no Valentines or xanax awaiting me.

Last night I came home to one of the best Priority Mail envelopes in history. It was overflowing with smiles, hearts and candy. My favorite candy. Watermelon Jolly Ranchers. T rocks. If I could fit a missive onto a bite-size candy heart...

There was also a distorted FedEx envelope from an overseas pharmacy. Christmas at the jail in February!

I ripped into her envelope before the other one. Teeth were involved. Her's held more long-term promise. The other one had an expiration date. She knew me. The other envelope short-changed me. Promise vs. lie.

*

Anyway, back to the point.

I slammed my heart-door shut for good after that pajama-linked lyrical episode. Anything that puts one in the realm of dehydration, distracted emergency room MDs and flat-out retarded social workers is bound to have that effect. 

Let's just say I got fucked over. There is no judiciary involved in the jail of Monmouth Medical Center. Dweeby runts are judge and jury. Forms filled are morphed into self indictments. 

I was also at risk of being force fed thorazine by idiotic, robotic nurses. We (myself with others in a more perilous situation) ended up, somehow, having waves of milligrams of thorazine filtered into their coffee, making for a nice circular diabolical game of u dose me, I'll dose you. I escaped, they're probably still people circularly wasted...there...still...all)

*

Just finished the book Requiem for a Dream. I believe they made a movie of it a few years ago. It's a pretty good analogy for what I went through a half-a-decade ago. It is the most depressing book I've ever read. It is dead on thorough. Thank god I have some "to be continued" cards left to play.

*

(Requiem)

I opened the door once again a year after this episode, then couldn't get it back shut. My own foot was in the way. I reslammed the door shut. To the point where people started to talk.

And are talking again. 

*

Trust me. It is slammed shut with a parody of many locks.

*

I'm wondering where to start cleaning my house for The Lovely Miss Phoenix Hot Fire Flame Spark Ignition Jumper Cables Cactus Needle Turquoise Aurora Desert Melting Sun Mystery Beauty. That's her tribal name.

I'm thinking the ceiling might be a good start.

*

This is a wrinkly entry. god forbid I iron it out to a million miles long.

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