Why is it always cold outside? With all the yelling and screaming, you might say it's cold inside too. It's just cold everywhere for me, I guess.
I hope they know, know the yelling won't help. It won't make anything better. They always do this, for no reason. They make this house what it is. A sin-city, where nothing is ever right. It's all wrong. Just walking in the front door is the entrance to the underworld itself. I could feel all the lies ever told pressed to their lips. There's no hope for them.
It was almost clockwork, how they argued. Following one after another, every second. Only pausing to breathe. When the clock strikes 12, it keeps going. Once someone gets the last word, they don't just walk away, they save it for the next round, the next time. But why is this all I hear? Time being wasted. Hurting the one you're supposed to love forever.
But time can hurt people, inside and out, just like the cold.
~~~
The one time I ever went in a church it got confusing. They let kids drink, even though it's illegal. They say they won't judge, until I walk in. People go in all dressed up to look good on the outside only to hide what's inside. But I will say the man up front was pretty fresh for a 1960's man. He talked about murder. Not the bullets and blood type, but more of in yourself and others. He was talking about the house. This is what the house was all about. They murder each other. They hurt each other. They get beat down so much inside that they are bending until they snap.
I think he knew I was confused because he came up to me and just left this piece of paper He just looked at me like a kicked dog, and I didn't need any of this. I left that place, just like I left the house. I wanted to get away from there, from them both and think on my own.
~~~
Yet that note is getting to me. It makes me want to snap, snap back at them. To tell him he is so wrong and her that it's nothing but impossible to stop herself. This note was about how love can hold us together and that if we hurt the ones important to us, then it's not even worth the time.
Sometimes I try. I can only try to get my voice out there.
Sometimes I try squeezing in my words. But I'm not heard. They fight over, through, and around me. I'm just a simple person trying to help, assist, and plainly stop it. All the voices start to overlap and I can't handle it. I try to separate my thoughts from their words but it all gets mixed up. I start to think how they are lying. I understand why they do this. How they consider themselves with pride. Greed of wanting to be better and having this better life when we are all in the same place. Instead of stopping they push the limits. Gluttony. It takes so much out of us all.
We were all in it. This chaos now poisoning everyone. This is how we grew up, how we learned how to act. Maybe I don't want to be like this. I have thought about that man up there in that church and how he helped me admit to myself it's not me. You think I like this? That I like the fact he leaves at night and no one know why? Do you think I like it when she wastes everything and yet there is always more for her to want?
There was this one day, one day to try and fix it all. He just got back from his "getaway vacation", which is just an excuse to get out of the house, that even he, of all people, get sick of. She came down the stairs with red eyes for who knows what reason. The gangs all here though, and that's what I wanted. It kills me to feel the tension between the two. From the stairs to the door, I just sat in the middle on the couch, waiting for the a/c to kick on so it fills the silence. As they both go to take a breath, hers raspy and his lazy, I tried. I said something, and you would have thought I was insane by the looks they gave me.
"What's wrong?"
