I realized something. Tenderness gets you nowhere in the face of apathy. Apathy is ruling us. It is ruling me in my heart and in its grotesque reflections. I cower at it and forget myself and whimper and say all the wrong things. Hateful things, as my heart is on fire. There is an anger in me, a blood red rage and then there is calm, cool, unaffected apathy. It does not rear its head like the bull of my anger, but sinks like a stone. Makes cool my bones. I would rather spit fire, I’d rather let it wreck my lungs. I wish I could scream it out or fight it out or **** it out or maybe just forget it exists. But it remains frozen ice throughout me that weighs me to the ground. The magnet that pulls me down down down. Maybe this is the doomed, inevitable thing I’m feeling, the fear that my apathy will never melt away. That I’ll never see the brighter days. The stars in me keep choosing the wrong things and i’m lost in a galaxy of apathy. Tenderness would melt me.
A case for apathy-- maybe I would get some sleep.
cousin to a poem i wrote about a year ago this month, 'apathy'