Eyes Wide Shut

Eyes Wide Shut

Maimed. Wounds that pus, pulse, and bleed.
In the end, to stop the infection from spreading, the worst was amputated.
I've heard amputees often complain of an itch in the missing limb, a knuckle that cannot be scratched,
some final flickering of nerves no longer used.
I wonder: have any ever complained of a mental disease spreading from the missing parts?
Cut it out and move on. Smile fine.
A tremble. A shiver.
I remember one of those darkly drunken nights where I lost it;
Anna just rocking me in a corner and just whispering, "My God,
what the fuck did they do to you?"
Indeed.
In a way it is senseless - beyond reason - the only response emotional - this dense
other world - of half remembered memories, of partial images.
Alone and wandering, pursued in total darkness. Pitch darkness. The kind of murky darkness that clings,
and captures, that you wade through. Aware - Eli out there somewhere. Not dark - blind - but some other sight,
some sense still lingers. A vague awareness - a desert, no cover, no camoflague. No where to hide.
Just run. Faster and Faster.Run Further, faster. Deeper inside.
Unsettling. Physiological symptoms increase - the body rebels against the mind - which mind?
Who runs this show?
A good actor, responsive, quick. I must be on guard that nothing appear wrong, that I too have this "natural"
human understanding. The physical - difficult. When to hug, when to shake, when to kiss. How much closeness,
what level of body commitment? Where do the arms go? Where does the pelvis go? Is that allowed, or not?
Nothing natural. So fake it. Smile brighter, talk louder, faster.
Information overload, distract them, don't let them think. Don't dwell on the emotions you don't have.
Yet you still feel. Feel some things. Smile - it's the easiest way out of an awkward situation - and what
situation isn't awkward with this disconnect from the rest of the lemmings?
Wondering, is this some manufactured form of autism? Of sociopath, of pyschopath? Yet I feel, and I feel more than
anger.
When people get close, tense. Tried to hide the tension. Smile.
It's the easiest way out of an awkward situation. I read that in a book.
I practice my looks - but how can I feel which look is correct?
Thus I am neurotic when I do have a feeling. Why am I responding?
What am I responding to? What is this thing inside of me, me yet not me,
not under my control, but understood by my body and mind?
Grab a bottle, another bandaid for the holes.
Yet really, I'm fine.
Just look at my smile.