The texture of tongue on teeth

From memories
Rise as leviathan
Woken from fever
A blade bared and hungry
Quiets into painful lethargy
Silence grows
Though distance is constant
Roads least traveled feel less
Was once sorry
Torn between decisions
Time passes
Lament for what may have
Falls silent
What is
Sings a sirens song
And what may be
Drips from lips stained red

Hear the rattle(of the snake)

When I go out into the world, I wear a specific style of dress. I wear black. Black pants, black shoes, black socks and a black button down dress shirt(short sleeve). And in some ways it’s to express my dark side of life nature and my gothness in a corporate world. That’s what I’ll tell you if you ask.

But, it serves other purposes as well. It marks me as other. Which, is a reflection of how I feel about myself. Other. I don’t belong to the crowd.

It’s not about alienation so much as an acknowledgement of fact. The way I think and hold myself forth is different. Which isn’t even my thought, it’s a comment that friends of mine make.

And there’s a third reason…I’m brown. Long hair and brown. Light skinned but brown. And I have a distinct aversion to being mistaken for else.

Through my dress and demeanor I reject any external notion that I might be a grocery store employee. I don’t know where the apples are and if you expect me to and voice it to me as if my place is one of subservience… Well, expect to hear an earful.
I’ve already done my best to flash danger and other with my dress. You’re failure to see reality is not my problem and if you make it my problem, it will swiftly become your problem.

People are afraid. To be confrontational. To be seen as the ‘minority’ with the chip on their shoulder. But what they see, when what I am is contraindicated, is not my emotional responsibility. I refuse to take up their burden.