Tag: love
Blog Posts / Random / Writing

Empty Bottles; Broken Promises

- by Grey Fox

  She couldn’t; I always did. But there was never any real choice involved.  There was no enlightened resistance possible when caught in the gravity spiral pull of another night dragged into the swirl of her booze-fueled disconnect. It was always premeditated.  Our paths, and our roles, were predetermined long before we ever began that final heated collapse on a cold Christmas morning, ultimately leading us into just more miscommunication in a chain reaction disaster of conflicting intentions. It was just more indignity shouldered with bending back, watching her kissing the bottom of yet another fucking bottle.  Or several.  Stolen or purchased with sticky change salvaged from underneath wedged cushions- it never really mattered to her. Because to an addict, it always tastes the same. But …

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Blog Posts / Random / Writing

F**K Human Resources

- by Grey Fox

How do I tell her? How do I explain in a text message that I am inexplicably caught constantly tabulating the incalculable burden of obligation? How do I confess that every single sleepless night my mind unintentionally fills and chokes full with formulaic frustrations, all neatly tallied and categorized into tidy little lists? Every day dawns stubbornly stillborn here in this place no longer fertile with the initial promises of illusive stability.  Life instead gets bogged down and impregnated with a cacophony of humdrum dial tone stagnation. The compulsion to try doing the “right” thing- measured by someone’s unlisted definitions, anyway.  Paying that bill.  And the next one.  And the one after that.  The unceasing drive to do a good job, even though very few people …

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Blog Posts / Random / Writing

Texting Tag

- by Grey Fox

I have always been overly sensitive about receiving overnight texts, those snippets of conversation hitting my phone randomly in the emptiness of another sleepless night spent straddling the solitary decay in a fading City of Wayne. There was once a time when those texts were almost always transatlantic in nature.  And they almost always contained some form of bad news- another friend buried.  Or arrested.  Or overdosed.  And even when the content of the texts bouncing across an ocean contained happier tidings, there was still an invisible, underlying melancholy attached that taught me caution and stiff-lipped reserve when caught unlocking my phone after midnight. Now, though, here in the tempestuous midst of a pandemic still raging hard… and the western forests burning uncontained… and the progressive …

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Random / Writing

Dream Girl

- by Grey Fox

I cannot help but to wonder where she might be tonight. And I find myself caught hard in the tantalizingly elusive possibility of her very tentative existence. The underlying solitude of a disjointed former lover’s isolation gives birth to that unstable potential for a dream. The empty incompleteness leaves me questioning the fleetingly unique set of circumstances required to even begin finding her. The silence resounding unabated inside a shallow and echoing blue house causes me to ponder the curvatures of the flowing currents of happenstance, wondering which twirl of the unrelenting flood will ultimately land me safely on her safe shores of lasting acceptance. If she were here with me now, in this particular early evening hour, I would dance with her.  Unashamedly.  Our bodies …

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Random / Writing

Labouring Through the Day(s)

- by Grey Fox

The end of another Indiana summer, the likes of which has rarely been experienced in the whole of our history, has now officially come and gone.  The only reminder of its existence is just another “X” indelibly carved on to the calendar of an undeniably dystopian year.  A solitary mark pulling us all closer to the frozen stagnations of the impending winter, lurking threateningly just on the horizon.

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