Friday, March 10, 2017


Words , like shrapnel, lodge deep into my membrane. Consequently mindful of their pungency I choose abstention. I want to be abstemious with words, absent myself from the surface of absent minded interchange which validates the insuperable absence I ineffectually penetrate. But in the interstices of the sparseness I wish to self preservingly deploy and the copiousness of candour you seem to exact, even without saying it, I grope for words. From t...he deluge of verbal permutations I can unthinkingly grasp and thoughtlessly utter, though knowing you would deem them thoughtful than the wordlessness sincerity engenders I falter, halt my utterance. Yet these gaps, which are really stopgaps which I hope you will fill with your concomitant knowledge of pre language, I see your furrowed brow, the contours of your voice establishing impatience, petulance.

For how can I articulate the fluctuating criss cross of what I neither fully apprehend nor accurately process. Something in me, some dense cranial proclivity towards divination, transmits these spools of interconnected signifiers as powerful emotion, suffusing me to the bursting point of the unspeakable. To speak it would be to unwind an unrelieved jumble of illimitable realms of thought mediated through the limits of language. I could burrow into the baroque prodigality of multifarious verbal missives , or interlace through expostulation and protestation, the boundlessness of feeling. But this boundlessness, untethered, cannot be contracted into what you seek and that which I cannot , in all honesty bestow. For me to surrender to what you seek I would of necessity streamline language, cohere these alternately divergent and converging streams into sparkling limpidity. My stream of consciousness cannot disgorge the plenitude it but incompletely distils. Nor can tortuous self awareness frame in words the intensification of psychic complexity.

Do I then need a narrative framework ? Would unceasing or judiciously administered requisite verbal proclamations suffice, wherein the tenor of repetition, obeying the politically correct law of consistency, overrule feeling. Do I need to subject you to these buffeting mnemonics, imbued with the facsimile of verisimilitude but rendered brittle by the much chewed upon and therefore insincerely uttered falsity of overcompensation. Perhaps my silences or fumblings will accrue their own succession of meanings. You, their legatee, will have a lifetime, or at least your own, to unearth from these half articulated inferrings your own truth of what you make of mine .

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