Tuesday, January 5, 2010

liar liar

there is this pressure on my chest now, like i've pulled the muscles in my esophagus by lying over and over again. my hands keep moving all the time but i don't know what they're saying.
i know that growing up is painful. i thought that pain subsided after adolescence, like white waves spreading over flat, wet sand, the bubbles of foam disappearing into the ground. the absorption of all that unbounded energy that made you say all those stupid things.
but people they grow their whole lives. i guess i never thought about the growing pains you feel when you're twenty-one, or thirty-seven, or turning forty-eight.
my throat feels swollen, the glands in my neck tender and achy. i'm a liar girl, i think. my hands keep moving like they've got something to say. i'm a liar girl and these bruises on my chest, this push in my lungs are telling me to slow down. a body that talks.