Monday, April 6, 2009

The dysfunction In Which I Function

(Pre-script: This post pairs beautifully with the song, "Bring Me To Life," #37, so go down to the playlist and click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...) (...still waiting.)
Sometimes dysfunctionally is the only way I can function.
Sometimes I can't handle the dysfunction I see in you, if it
bumps into mine too closely or
does not allow room for mine to realize it's full potential.
Sometimes I think to myself,
"Dysfuctionally is the only way I
know how to function so
instead of trying to function, I
am going to stop
functioning for awhile,
fall asleep
here within
my walls four walls
with names I have forgotten
but their meaning can be felt
at every corner,
This is my space and
that is not graffiti on the wall, it is blood
from where I banged my head over and over
in a silent drum beat,
"let me go, let me go,
let me out, let me out."
until finally, the blackout
the sweet numbness of black nothing
which lasts for a night but
leaves scars in the morning
puke and guts and blood and puss
I can look over, step over, ignore
once again, or
I can start to scrub and scour.
I want to say that I will stay and scrub and scour but
sometimes dysfunctionally is the only way I can function.
Can I get an amen to that?


1 comment:

Brian said...

Functioning dysfunctionally: a great description of all of us.

Below the surface in our relationships, it can definately be hard sometimes to deal with personalities that don't always mesh with our own. And I can imagine that in motherhood thats even more true because of the daily close proximity to those personalities.

Very deep, almost scary, insight into the struggle to just make it to the end of the make it to the next reboot and start again.

Well written...forces the intelligent reader to confront themself...disturbing in it's introspection and sheer honesty!