Haggard and still wrapped in a filthy apron, she was returning home
from her nine hour shift at the factory. Although she had not worked
overtime that morning or stayed late that night her normal
tremendously strenuous day of production had the added burden that
she, as a team leader, was urged by her newly appointed supervisor
(who recently replaced her beloved mentor) to downplay the Corporate
sponsored reduction/relocation in workforce that will, in fact, only
negatively effect her team members; a crushing realization that those
she had grown so very fond of and who had always shown their loyalty
by performing their very best under many harsh circumstances, would
soon be placed in great financial hardship. She was also reminded that
her "level of assistance" during this "transition" would greatly
affect her further relationship with the company.
The burden of truth had decreased the stamina for this young woman;
she was exhausted by the time she arrived at her mortgage payment.
Upon opening the door, she was promptly greeted with the familiar
smell of expensive, name brand cigarettes and the sound of trance
music. Relieved, although puzzled that the source of the sense
stimulant was not immediately present, she sat down on her decidedly
comfortable chair and attempted to force herself into quickly
absorbing the entirety of these surely limited moments of peace that
she would receive the remainder of this evening.
He, the Demon...
Stepping from the shadows of the darkened hallway...He stood in full
display in front of her. Opening her desperately unrested eyes, his
form was fully taken into view. For a moment she pondered the oddness
of his posture- He stood with his forearms moderately protecting the
bottom of his ribcage with both hands hanging: in a bizarrely,
unnerving, complacent manner, his head was oddly projected by his neck
that followed the continuous perverted 'S' that was his spine. 'How
much does he resemble a Praying Mantis!' she quipped to herself,
causing a slight smile. The flesh of this momentary amusement was
quickly scraped to the bone by the flicker of angry visual
communication that enveloped His face, "Are you mocking me?" He
interrogated.
Re-adjusting herself in the chair and regaining her focus, she
attempted to compensate for her body's naturally protective, reactive
panic- she outwardly relaxed her demeanor and internally braced
herself for forthcoming ritualistic assault. She waited...and nothing,
she was given mercy! Feeling brave, she tested the temperature by
asking, "So, how was your day?" to which He replied, "My day was
fantastic! Until an hour ago." Extraordinary pleased that tonight's
program appeared to contain normal human interaction, she continued
with her query, "Oh, that's sad, what happened an hour ago?" and He
leveled His gaze to mimic hers and said, "My day was perfect until I
realized what time it was and I knew you would be home in an hour to
ruin my day!"
Thus began, "...____________,_______________________!
_______________________!
__________?_____________________?________.__________________! ...." I
remember, but I choose not to repeat those words that I am so (very)
familiar with. Because THIS, is not his blog. This is MY blog and MY
truth.
He continued to berate me; I was used to this, but for some reason I
lost my hearing that night. Somewhere after " ______________!" it just
shut off and the only thing I could hear was my own thoughts. I was
absolutely enthralled by my own mind! As I started grinning from ear
to ear, my escape from 'his' reality must have become abundantly
clear. Observing my joy, he became infuriated and demanded to know,
"WHAT IS SO F***ING FUNNY?!" To which I replied,
"Sometimes, when you are talking to me, I imagine: taking a razor
blade down both sides of your spine, ripping out your spinal cord,
grinding it into powder and brushing my teeth with it."
A few seconds after the color returned to his face, he exclaimed,
"You are f***ing psycho!" and quickly escaped into a bedroom and
firmly shut the door. Of course, I HIGHLY enjoyed the rest of my
night! I also regained the tiniest, yet crucial morsel of my self
worth and power. To this day I still find it interesting that I
envisioned him as being a Praying Mantis, but it was in reality,
always Me. The truth- it is the FEMALE Praying Mantis that has the
ultimate power over life! Later that evening I wrote a poem, it was
the first I had written in almost 15 years. It might not have been
book worthy, but it means a lot to me. Here it is:
Razor Damage
Tonight, I closed my eyes,
my touch my lover denies
All the doomed love,
removed from my hand like a glove
Down the tunnel my body slides,
forgetting you as my heart dies
Awesome prediction,
of loving addiction
All a lie,
let me die
See my blood the color of rain,
clear of all the pain
Hold me down and suffocate your muse,
I am the one, but it is no use
Crackling fire of songs in my head,
burning the love that now is dead
Razor sharp tongue,
damage can not be undone...
