halfway whole

you know when you squeeze a sponge and all the juices of the kitchen-world that have been slurped up in the past...forever....gush out like shaken soda exploding;
like pushing the elevator button and waiting on the 99th floor;
remember how it feels to wake up in the middle of the night with a wet pillow and swollen eyes because that dream-image was oh so real;
and thinking you can you can you can....but then you really truly honestly....can't;
can't you imagine spilling your guts and being so politically INcorrect that they have no choice but to look and stare and say "oh my";

i guess what this jumbled mess of similies and subtelties and (un)certainties points to is that feeling when you feel so dead inside that when things break down, CRaSh, and buRN, you realize that a long time ago you stopped forgetting to care and...and maybe it's time to remember.
when you're fighting, pushing, playing that tug-of-war of wills and pride and who can spit the meanest s*** and all you, I, can think is i'm so tired and trying to cry with a depleted supply of emotion tears
how many times can a human heart (love?) be twisted, tested, cheated, betrayed and abused, before it stops hurting, stops threatening to tear them (me) apart and just keeps on beating with the same thud-thud...thud-thud it had before you even knew about that fanciful fascination in the art of feeling



how long can you fake it