Mum and dad had a bond their boundaries were criss-crossed, and they hated each other to such an extent that if one died the other said the other would breath more- easy. She said to him once if only I can drown you with a little water and no one the wiser what a day I would have I would sell my soul to such a man. I thought that someone had heard because dad had disappeared. But he came back looking very thoughtful and quiet.
This bondage is theirs because they have nothing in common but their spite to each other this is their lot this is what they have become this is what they will always remember of each other this is their lot. Home sweet home not it is sweating like pigs and making lusts seem oblivion, what it is? Nothing but hatred nothing but nothing but over work which is exhaustion without those affectionate embrace which is the normal thing a man and a woman does if they are having sex. However this is nothing this is porn like a paid star out to perform each other out to perform one the other as if they are fellas fucking the daylight out of each other so that one can say,
“Why?” he must know.
“I am not here to reason why.” She has been on the vitamins again and it has made her spite more lustful.
“I want to know the reason?”
“You shan’t. Get on with it.”
“That gaping hole is that the reason?”
“What do you think?”
And the night becomes morning and soon they have no reason to go to bed anymore as if their tastes have changed as if they have outgrown each other. They have nothing to say at breakfast not even what is the news today has someone died? Not even that they have nothing at all to communicate nothing to discourse nothing to do but intercourse. They get down to it with spite again after all that time they have nothing to do but to enter hell. Their marriage is hell they have nothing their poverty gleams at them as the house gleams their poverty is such they have nothing but his house and she wants it. He stops in the middle and says,
“You can have it. It is yours. I am leaving.”
“I’ll pack your things.”
“I can do that don’t touch any of my stuff this house is yours I’ll sign it away to you. Just leave me alone.”
Sheer elation is her lot. Sheer joy she is joyfully counting the times she will have to herself the times when her time will be hers. She is counting the moments when he will be gone. The times he is away will be now and tomorrow and forever. It is sheer joy like the coming of the morning like the dawn of time when the blast of light hurts the eyes. No more the right things to say or do no more the things she despises no more her heart in her mouth because there are no more to care for. No more him.
“Why am I crying?” She wonders, “Why I am crying?”
Great sobs are hers and hers only she is crying because she is free. She is crying because it was her plan it was hers to do as she wanted now she is crying for the things she has cast away. The man she could not live up to the woman she has become the personality that got in the way of love.
“What reasoning? What is the reason behind this?” There seemed nothing to reason with no one to turn to except more vitamins and more of that work she so didn’t want to give up. The things she has given up are more than she can bear but she puts on her suit and slams the door. The husband is packing he too is not clear what he intends on doing he wants to wallop her but times have changed and woman no longer like walloping. He too slams the door in the face of that which he left behind to take only his clothes that he stood in and now to start again to start life fresh as if a freshly laundered shirt.
“No we are fiddling the books and nobody has found us out.”
“The angel at the door won’t find us out and the devil will not come knocking at the door to seek us to fine us to take us.”
“We are ok too.”
“We are all fine in our finery the perfect dress does not make the perfect character let us now pray in doing so we find that the incantations lend us peace and makes us sweet and rosy then we can go and rape the bitch.”
When relationships end, when hearts break when the gnawing gap becomes intolerable who will fill the chasm? It was when trust, respect and dignity go by the window leaving something unpalatable something like salt, dust and death. There goes my dignity in a dingy. There goes the dignity of me that was young and now weathered and used something no longer new but tarnished as if it was a sponge and now it is rung to dry.