kettle

Totally steamed. Angry. Anger. Blind rage. Two black eyes blind rage. Destructive swells inside my ribcage, need to let it out somehow. The spout is not big enough to push out all this hot air I have inside me. I must move and explode. Hot steam. Put your hand over me and I will burn you in a second, so you better call a doctor if you’re going to do that. Smell of tea leaves, forgotten. Despite this pipeline of boiling hot steam, the kitchen is cold. Flame is hot, kitchen is cold. The opposites are too much for me to bear. Metallic shine, conductor material. Provider of heat. Relief. It doesn’t even need it’s own commercial. Flipping through channels in my mind as I trying conjure this emotion and slow down time. Speed up time so I can move on. Some days I shuffle my feet begrudgingly. Sheets cocooned up tight and dark I don’t wanna get out of bed today. Depression is rock climbing. Sometimes you scale the mountain (very rare), other times you slide all the way down to the ground on your rope (it happens), and other times You change you foot position once and that’s the accomplishment for the day. Kettles as alarms. Warnings. Rousing me from my sleep. It’s an alarm. You can’t snooze it from your bedside. Feel the flame tickle the underside of this great container. What genius took a hammer and beat this metal into submission? Made it whole and leak-free? What did that take, just for one? Two animals go two by two into the Ark. It stinks of manure. There must’ve been an immense amount of anxiety. I don’t think the Bible truly captures that. But then again, it’s been awhile since I’ve read the story. I used to have a children’s Bible. It had lots of colorful pictures and the pages were gold on the edges, so when the book was closed you could see the golden look more solidified at the edges of those pages, the edge of the book. One time I got a papercut from reading it and there was blood smeared on one of the pages. I never cleaned it. Just sort of left it there. Again, this activity of reading this bible was usually done in the bed, reading lamp on. I used to have these cool lamps. One of them was this projection lamp with these hippie / psychedelic flowers and it would rotate and project these flowers in these neon colors all around my room. I wonder whatever happened to that lamp. I’m not sure. I had another one too. I think it was a table lamp, tall, primarily pink with the –

Author: Roe

29. she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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