Angry Words

They are just Angry words

But they cut like a knife into the spirit and soul

I mean, mean vicious untrue, misleading, misunderstanding, obscene, cutting … words

Have you ever cut yourself accidently on the flesh

And then spent time wondering what it would be like to be stabbed to have a deep wound serious

Not accidental

I mean With paper or a razor or knife

Don’t get me wrong not someone else’s your own

This is what angry words are like

Your own throat slit from side to side not the aftermath but the feel of the sharpe  blade sharpe as a scalpel

What the slit feels like

Like finger nails on a chalk board you ponder it too long, why would you

And then transfer that same feeling to say the gut area

The abdomen

A knife launched in anger and

It cut your flesh like that searing feeling of an accidental cut like your throat being slit but only in the gut the abdomen

Then well, it must start out like that and go deeper as the knife continues on its path this I cannot feel I cannot imagine

Sharp like a scalpel that searing kind of feeling

Hardly noticeable when it is inflicted and completely unoticable as it goes deeper and moves through its path

Like paper cut

Surgical

Slit throat

Abdomen

But you look down and realize it is deeper

Serious

You feel the initial slit but the rest you don’t feel

As the blood flows from the thin and slender line that begins to

Opens up into a wound

And thin line of blood becomes a flow of blood

And it can actually gush it is that serious

And then that thin searing pain becomes deeper and broader

And yet hardly noticible against the backdrop of pain that it seems like has always been there

Serious pain

Not From the cut but from the wound it inflicted

And then you don’t worry about the blood anymore

As messy as it is as it flows you see it

But then the shock of the sight is dismissed in favor of the pain

The deep pain physical from a serious wound

And you bend over too holding on to a gaping hole that you are not trying to cover up so much as to hold in

Hold the pain in

Not the blood and guts

But the pain

Bent over with both hands covering the initial thin line

Inflicted by the cut of a knife or scalpel or whatever

That has now grow into a gaping hole

But you are not trying to cover up this wound at all though it has that effect

As much as you are trying to stop to sooth the pain by holding holding it in

Then the pain peaks and subsides as you continue to hold the wound

It is as if you can sooth or

Mitigate this deep pain by holding it in

If you hold it in … the pain … then there was no event

there was no wound

and the pain goes away and you remove your hands

There, it will stay in by itself now

No I mean the pain has gone away it is gone it was never there

And you are safe,

If you hold in the pain

And you tell no one

No one knows except you and the inflictor the

Well

The perpetrator

disassociation  is the answer to all my problems

Problems being pain emotional pain

Disassociation no pain,  no pain here, what pain,

 I have just gotten over it

See it doesn’t even seem trite in this context

So no stabbing no wound no pain

If the pain is gone then the was no incident no stabling no wound

E I E I O

And so I look inside and here are these scars

So many

And so, some are long and jiggered

Some are small and barely noticeable

But upon reflection I can remember each one

This is when she pulled the knife out and stabbed and cut

Angry vicious words a tirade of anger

Just like a scalpel surgically applied and accepted

Have you ever been on the receiving end  of something like these

And I remember each one the events the angry words lost in a tirade of of anger for she has become anger has become the scalpel

Yes and some applied in front of witnesses

This is the second one

Barely noticble a very small scar really that has healed over

Oh well maybe a bit longer and certainly deeper

Applied in front of a witness

Who covered her eyes and mouth in aghast as she

A bystander witnessed the knife or scalpel go into to the spirit the soul and cut and cut angry vicious words that like a knife are

Outside of me and have nothing to do with me they are mostly lies and half truths

And a misunderstanding misinterpretation of the facts

They are anger directed at me

As a knife or scalpel they cut and cut

They jab and cut

And I hold them in hold in the pain really

As I accept each jab

And the witness sees me

Sooth her

I fall to my knees because of the unseen unfelt pain of the attack

I sit I remove her shoe’s

I kiss her feet

The bystander walks away

Mumbling something about I can’t watch this

I kiss her feet at her feet

I hold in my pain by soothing her’s

For anger is an expression of the angry persons pain the pain of the perpetrator

Expressed as a screen play and action an angry expression of words artfully applied to

Well really the receiver who is not angry

Does not even appear hurt

For they are only words

So I kiss and rub I caress her feet at her feet after the attack on me

Which wasn’t really about me at all

But something in her that needed to be expressed

 so I accept the wound to my soul and spirit

Accept, receive, deny dissociate

E I E I O

Not in the spirit in which it was inflicted but as one

Who epitomizes the very concept of acceptance

I say nothing as I hold in this emotional pain and I sooth her

At her feet I caress her feet

But there after all these years is the scar

I have the scar meant for someone else who?

I do not know

I remember the pain and the accumulated pain of all the remaining attacks down through the years

For this was only the second knifing of me I hold in the pain and all the scars are there

they remain

As the years go by and the relationship grows and develops

Sometimes punctuated by angry gestures obscenities and words that are nonsensical

And always the jabbing the knife jabs and cuts

Like a knife or scalpel in my spirit my soul

It goes in with a jab comes out another jab  in

Then moving the knife/scalpel as when still in flesh

It is sticking in the spirit the soul and she moves the knife the scalpel and it cuts through the soul and spirit

As it moves and leaves a thin line

That bleeds a thin line of blood

And then opens up the soul the spirit and there is a wound

But down go my hands

Not to stop the bleeding or hold in my guts my very soul’s stuff some of my spirit is trying to leak out to the air and get outside of me

Some of who I am leaks out through these wounds like blood and guts

So I hold in the pain and my soul and my spirit as she attempts to break it with her vicious angry mean words cruel words cutting untruths half truths misunderstandings name calling

On and on it goes and I show no signs of having hung in

Yet the scars remain

And the memory of each wound and me holding in holding on to the pain

And her anger falls like rain and then

The sun

And no anger just nice

And she says I love you

I know she does for she said it

And I accept that too

Accept the I love yous for that is what my soul craves

After the knifings the I love yous

I live for these

I love you

She bats her eyes and says I love you

Mom told me some day I will meet a girl who will bat her eyes at me

And you will be gone

Thanks Mom

Slipping away

But not quite gone yet

You were right

I hold in the pain and I accept the joy of hearing those three words

And I ignore the knifings and the scars left as their reminders for I have

I love yous

The three words I seek and for which I will accept a million surgically applied knifings night and day and gladly

For those three words

as a bit of my soul my spirit slips away

Whether I can see the attack coming or whether it is a sneak attack

A bit of my soul my spirit a bit of me slips away

And then I am nothing but scars

I warned her I told her the third time

Yes she did it again even after the caressing of feet at her feet

I really thought this would stop the knifings but it did not

So the third time sitting in the car

Alone holding the wound that was bleeding holding in the pain

Calmly and serenely for I was practicing acceptance the answer to all my problems

I tell her calmly as I hold the bleeding wound to  ease the pain but has the ancillary effect of stopping the bleeding and hold my guts in that part of my soul my spirit that’s under attack the very me of me I hold in to stop the pain

And I turn and calmly tell her as I bleed and hold the wound I say

“You know, this is going to take a toll.”

And years go by more knifings

More holding in me … the me of me

the pain she has inflicted by angry vicious cruel mean word tirades  name calling obscenities actions as knifings surgically applied to my spirit and soul

She has left down the state yet still with silence not answering  the phone and then angry angry words mean viscous hateful untruths misunderstandings half truths and misinterpretations name calling stabbing and slashing at me soul. 

Until I bleed out me.

And all these scars from previous attacks have accumulated and there they are and I remember each one that I have accepted

And so years go by

And I write still years from now

I write these words

Just as calmly for now the anger has degenerated into the written word emails and instant messages the knifes or scalpel of technology surgically butchering my spirit my soul until more of me bleeds out and I  hold in the pain to keep me from bleeding out and losing myself to the ground and losing myself as I bleed out with the pain.  I hold it in I hold it in to stop the pain and the blood the very me of me is held in.

The written word emails and instant messages

Have become her weapons so she can strike from a far

They cut just as deeply as if she were standing right there and maybe even more so … because she is not standing right there

And I know my I love yous which I will get if I hang in and accept these knifings I know my I love yours  will not be in person But still I hang holding in the pain and the blood of me the very me of me for these I love yours which are fewer and far between the knifings which come at anytime for any reason

Cut upon cut scar upon scar and I hold in the pain.  I can do nothing but devote myself to these miserable knifings and continue to love you.

And so after more knifings I write too

If you keep treating me like this there will come a time when there will be nothing you can do there will be nothing you can say. 

And still you continue. Knife and blame knife and blame.

As more of me bleeds out of me

As more scars are formed you knife and blame me

Words of anger of hate name calling obscenities and then one I love you again.

How much of me has bled out how many scars from holding in the pain?

Till I can no longer disscociate and finally the end as the relationship becomes the knifings and I love yous mean nothing  I have held in the pain and held onto me

I have survived another relationship.

Sometimes it seems that I am nothing but scars there are so many

Old scars new scars

I do not sit and contemplate them all; they are just there

I do not remember each and every one

They are a testament to me

I have held in the pain and the blood that runs from my spirit and soul the blood

The very me of me

I have held in the pain the blood and saved me the very me of me remains intact to this day

I am not the scars or the pain I am underneath

I am here.

Copyright 2013 Fred Celio

The Daily Prayer That Never Fails

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