She couldn't resist…she leaned back to get a full view of the other room to make sure there was no danger of being immediately observed (and therefore stopped) before she planted all five fingertips of her left hand in a different shade of watercolor paint, then brushed the palm of her right hand with a coat of black.

 

Then, after looking over her shoulder again, she ran to one of the blank walls ("minimalist is what we're going for…those photos would create too much clutter") and smacked her right palm against the wall, while marching the fingers of her left hand around it.  The rainbow colors were transparent, the consistency of a flimsy silk slip.  The black transferred to the wall as grey and made a pleasing suctioning sound when she peeled her palm away.  She knew it was slightly destructive, absolutely vindictive and would inevitably lead to a polite fight over her apathy towards making a nice home.  She knew, but she didn't care; the release that followed her little trick engulfed her entire body head to toe and towards her soul.

 

She had tried to talk.  She had tried to scream.  She had tried it all in her head while he was none the wiser,

It's funny when you know how late you are in the morning by who you see on the 6 train.

"Tall slightly Latin looking 40 something guy with curly hair that gets off at 33rd st...ok, I'm only a few minutes late."
"Tall-ish, very attractive black man who looks to be about my age and has no ring on his finger who gets on at Grand Central and off after me...yeah, I'm pretty late."

I have been avoiding writing I have been avoiding feeling I have been stuffing it all back down...I have been curling up in the cocoon of blankets on the oasis of my bed and canceling out all of my opposing thoughts. I have been staring glassy-eyed at the TV I have been turning my phone off I have realized that I need to speak and then I remember that I already have and it didn't mean a thing. I wonder and wonder and wonder why I am here but know at the same time that I am not ready to leave. There have been moments when I've thought of different cities and if it's not St. Augustine or NY these feel like cheating thoughts. I feel this raw gnawing inside all the time, nothing seems to take it away anymore.

I judge myself inadequate and can tell you all of the reasons why I fall short in the light of the world that I live in. I know in my brain what I am worth but it won't translate to anything real. No paper no conversation no work no success...nothing real that has meaning. I ramble and ramble and pause...