Naming the Blank Nothing

It's weeks like these, we roll up into ourselves.
We gather our arms inward, into the deep
dark, the unmoving silence.
We try not to let the fear grip us, the impossibility
of life's lightness moving us.
I feel so silent and sad,
so frustrated with the present.

We laugh as the television blinks on and off
our faces, the bone smile of your smile
can make me fly out of winter.
for now I need you
tangled in my arms.

I ache
today like the
entire world as if the
entire world's sadness
could break me.
i want to
back up
back down
back bone
grow...

You're sleeping.
I want to make you tea.
Put our hearts at ease.
Love, what is that unknown thing?

My words struggle to find
their syncopation. They're out of step,
out of line.
I start them
I fail them
I let them fall out of my mouth
into the crawl space between
now
and now.

What (i think and i think) i'm trying to think is
i'm so scared and so not scared of everything.

I can hear you breathing
"Let's tear down the night anyway."

Day 150-something - Oh My Mega Mall

Went to the mall today. I like to shop on my day off. I like to pretend that I'll buy something. But now-a-days, my tight budget's got me strangled. I walk around from rack to rack. I like this. I like that. I walk away.

It seems like prices haven't really moved at all. The recession hasn't made any retailers really anti-up their $50 sweaters into $15 sweaters, or even $30, or dammit, even $40. What's wrong with them? Whose buying this stuff? Seriously? Almost everybody I know is hurting.

Sure, there's richies everywhere, but the majority of the people are in the $17 sweater range. Let's be honest. Is everyone still putting this shit on credit? Isn't that what got us into this mess? I refuse to charge a thing.

The cash in the pocket. It's real. Tangible. I have X amount of dollars per month to spend on clothes. And my taste could kill it on a nice pair of shoes. I love clothes. Shoes. Material things. Shallow I know. Sometimes when I'm in the mall, it's like a torture chamber. Water water everywhere but not a drop to drink...

I resist. Every time. Bite my lip. I'm an outfit shopper, so going piece by piece is a bit like tearing my flesh off in strips. I tend to over think things anyway, ask anyone I know, so you can imagine the analyzation of trying to make my tired wardrobe sing one sweater per month.

It all goes a bit like this...

I start out practical. I go to Charlotte Russe. I mean, they have cute stuff. Cheap. Yet immediately upon entrance, I can't help but think...I'm thirty, aren't I too old for this? And plus, the clothes, they last four wears and they are done. Isn't that a waste of money too? Perhaps I need to invest more in quality pieces...

So I then go to Express. They have more sophisticated, classic clothing. I see a dress I like. $79.99. Damn. One dress. Which really wouldn't be the end of the world, except I need an ENTIRE winter wardrobe. F$#%.

It's here I start to notice the impossibility of building this phantom wardrobe. First off, this season's sweaters are noticeably missing sleeves. Which to me is just clever marketing. They make you buy a long-sleeved undershirt too. Which is two pieces, as opposed to one whole sweater. That equals more money for them. Trend? Or clever recession strategy?

Second that, with the whole flat boot thing. Absolutely adorable. BUT. You have to wear skinny jeans with those. And if you're like me, you've avoided the whole skinny jean thing for a very long time considering most of us are not built like a 13-year-old boy. BUT jeans in boots = cute. So now I guess I need skinny jeans too. As of yet, none of this potential outfit is even accessorized. I re-check the cash in my pocket. Depression sinks in...

RE-evaluation: I go to Forever 21. Where I think...I hate teenagers AND their stupid clothing. Barf. Also: hot pink flannel? really?

How bout Macy's? That seems middle of the road, semi-affordable and semi-well-constructed. I accidentally end up in the high-end section first. The cutest BCBG stuff assaults me. I'm spinning. When I finally get to "my" section, everything looks cheap and old. I leave immediately.

Three hours deep in mall-ville, I ended up with a pair of work shoes and Aveda foundation to replace what I've run out of. I also gained a severe need for bipolar meds. Oh my mega mall. You bring out the worst in me.

Yes, I know I can go to Target, and sure, I could perhaps piece together an outfit a month there. People are starving, for pete's sake, my thoughts are so small.

But today, I dreamt and swore. I want to get all debaucherous on shopping. Just once (or thrice). I want to just blow a wad of cash on what I love. Rub quality fabrics all over my skin and walk haughty in my super-fly new heels, my well-constructed dress.

I know these thoughts won't get me to heaven. But I'd ask for forgiveness afterwards. I promise.