7/10/13 7:34pm – 7/11/13 5:35pm
eating him were his own superstitions
with a closed left fist he punched himself square in his right wrist
just beneath the table and out of sight of the surrounding restaurant patrons.
if it had been an empty room or even just a few more turned backs he might
have pulled his hair out right then and there.
but..he was surrounded, so he took out the totaling frustrations on his right
wrist the only way he’d come to know as irrational as it was a way of dealing.
he’d decided he didn’t want to be there, sitting across from his none the wiser friend,
in that dimly lit restaurant anymore.
but it wasn’t the ambiance or the lack there of that was eating him.
eating him were his own tangled set of superstitions he’d created to drape a life around.
he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon though.
all he could do was nod along to the beat of the one-sided conversation for now as he
pictured previous occasions where he’d punched himself in the temple to punish himself
for his own stupidity, thrown a remote control against a wall hoping it’d break and be done
with him, ripped his own hair out when enough backs were turned, almost broke his pinky
punching a chair in his line of fire, half-heartedly tried to stomp a skateboard that he could
not afford to commit to breaking, stretched his own shirt at the collar hoping it would lean
toward ripping knowing all the while(s) they’d bring him no closer to feeling better.