"To mourn a mischief that is past and gone
is the next way to draw new mischief on" - Mr. Shakespeare
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Recently, for the first time in nearly five years ... Why, since literally being run out of town back in '10 ... I spent an enjoyable extended stay in Miami.
Miami ... Where a young(ish) man's dreams turned to ash, along with the molt of his reputation.
Miami! Death of name and pride ... The violent starvation of anything lovely, the horror of shame-given life, told to hide ...
Made to feel horrendous. A loser inside.
Watch the wife feed the loser ... half-believing the lies ...
Having nowhere to turn, or herself run and hide, she can only reluctantly flail and pile on; not wanting to feel her love for The Loser, she can only hold tight to her furies, resentments and 20-year grudges, and dredging these up to protect herself when she feels the way she's supposed to feel: in love and supportive, not wanting to harm ...
Not wanting to wound him and kill anymore than he's already crippled and dying inside ... her defense is to do exactly that: wound and kill, any love she feels might be alive still.
Protecting herself, because Loser's disabled ...
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| “Gone Skyline (Night)”, ©Jeff Glovsky |
