Isolation

It’s there when a bloom of anger rises in the cheeks, when you’re standing in the greenspace that counts as your front yard waiting for your dogs to do their business and teenagers in a Jeep honk at you because they're being funny.
It’s there in the darkness and silent in the middle of the night, when your eyes snap open and there’s nothing there but your thoughts.
It’s there on a walk with the dogs before bed, when the only sounds are the scuff of footfalls on concrete – and the jangled tune clicked out by the metal tags fastened to the girls’ necks.
Isolation.
It isn’t loneliness. It’s deeper than that. A progression of time that stretches forever forward. But by yourself.
It becomes a prison. And institution where the mundane repetition of action - the same action, day after day - becomes something of a security blanket.
I’m trying to break free.
But it has come to a point where I don’t know how.
Or why.

5 comments:

Daily Panic said...

you described this very well, i think it is more solitude than isolation. I find myself caught in the mundane every now and then.

Anonymous said...

Dude!

I think you need to get yourself on down to Kansas City and search out Gertrude. I heard she moved north.

GERTRUDE - JERRY JEFF WALKER

I SAY NOW GERTRUDE WAS A ONE EYED GAL
WORKING DOWN IN NEW ORLEANS
GERTRUDE, SHE WAS A REGULAR PAL
ONE OF THEM CAJUN QUEENS

A SOFT HEARTED HOOKER WITH A TWO BIT DIVE
A REGULAR SAINT SADIE GOT JUST ONE EYE
AND SHE’S GOT A SET OF ARMS LIKE A LUMBER JACK
GERTRUDE’S GOT A HEART OF GOLD DUST

GERTRUDE, IS ALWAYS ON THE STREETS
HUSTLING UP A DIME OR TWO
GERTRUDE, SHE’S NICE AND SWEET
ESPECIALLY WHEN SHE’S TRICKING YOU

WELL, SHE WOULD TAKE YOU IN THE BACK AND IN A MINUTE'S FLASH
SHE’D BE BACK DRINKING WHISKEY FROM A WATER GLASS
JUST LAUGHING LIKE A SAILOR WITH A THREE DAY PASS
GERTRUDE WAS A SWINGING BAR FLY

I MET HER WHEN I WAS RUNNING ABOUT
NOBODY SEEMED TO CARE FOR ME
SHE TOOK ME INTO HER SIDE ONE NIGHT AND
EXPLAINED THE FACTS OF LIFE TO ME

SHE TOLD ME ABOUT THE WORLD AND ALL IT’S MISERY
SHE TAUGHT ME HOW TO LAUGH AND BE A FRIEND INDEED
AND LET THE SANCTIMONIOUS CLODS GO THEIR WAY
GERTRUDE HAD A WAY WITH ALRIGHT

THEN SHE TOOK ME TO HER ROOM THAT NIGHT
AND MADE ME FEEL A MAN AGAIN
WE LAUGHED AND TALKED WE DRANK AND SANG
AND THEN THE BEAUTIFUL NIGHT DREW IN

I FELL ASLEEP IN A BROKEN DOWN CHAIR
AND WHEN I AWOKE THERE WAS NOBODY THERE
SHE ROLLED ME BUT SHE TOLD ME IN THE NOTE SHE LEFT
YOU'VE GOT TO KEEP A-MAKING IT MY FRIEND

SO SOMEWHERE DOWN IN NEW ORLEANS
WHERE THE WINE AND THE LAUGHS ARE FRIENDS
I'LL BET THERE’S A ONE EYED BEAUTY THERE
JUST A-TRICKING AND A-PICKING UP MEN
FOR WHERE EVER THERE ARE SOUL’S WHO ARE HUNG IN DISTRESS
THERE’S BOUND TO BE A WHORE FOR YOUR S.O.S
THEY GOT MORE WOMEN BOUND TO KNOW WHERE IT’S AT
AND GERTRUDE IS SETTING ALL KIND OF RECORDS

Saddle up cowboy and get yourself off to Kansas City.

maintain radio contact. . .

missalister said...

I have a similar place, a suspension in any time, a peaceful bubble in which to lick the wounds of honking and jiving, to catch the tune of my own song, to heal and blossom. The heat of the business world is an annoying jumping bean trying to divert me to Mundanity with its ridiculous antics. But if your place is a prison like you say, you just close your eyes and jump into the heat, and the rest will take care of itself. Or maybe where you need to go, when you need to go there will be made evident when it’s time.

Shadow said...

time suspended. yes. i feel that in your words and in the things you describe. but is it uncomfortable?

ThomG said...

Shadow, it can be. But I don't feel much right now. I just. Am. Little boy lost.