Some things will never change. Does that phrase elicit an internal groan? Perhaps, because you already know what brings it on. We are surrounded by knuckleheads, know-nothings who are dangerously loud in professing their beliefs, their truths, their opinions, their idea of wit, and it chip chip chips away at our good energy, our vibe that’s trying so hard to burn bright, with love and care in the midst of killjoys.
Some things will never change, and I’ve spent many days trying to knit phrases together into some sort of poem or essay in response to the troglodytes who expose themselves every time they open their maws. I’m working so hard at trying to share how awful they make me feel, allowing their misogynistic, or puerile, utterances to put a dent in my graceful armor. Dent dent dent, chip chip chip, why am I working so hard at trying to make your ugly words pretty?
Yesterday I chose to ignore your ugly, to not engage. I watched as you painted yourself into a corner with your own tongue. Nice job, Ironic-man, we couldn’t have done it better if we tried. I almost feel sorry for you going through life filled with such hate and anger, knowing what it’s done to your body. Perhaps I should write about the friends you’ve alienated or the wife who patiently attends you. Perhaps I shouldn’t give you another moment of my life. Look how much we’ve wasted on it already.
Some things never change. But I hope to. One, deep, long dreaming draught of living breath at a time, help me to exhale beauty instead of darkness.
