kloiterra

the deed is done.
perhaps nothing was done.
either way, its over and i'm breathing again.
what is it about liars?
its that they assume yr stupid enough to believe them
and let them take advantage of you.
any shadier and light would make her disappear.

on st. patricks day, it will have been 3 years since the night i went to wesport with my friends. i was scotch on the rocks and a fedora. over the course of the night, we split up, the plan was to meet back up at our friend's house, which was well within walking distance. I remember being in kelly's, leaving kelly's, walking down pennsylvania.
10 days later, i woke up in the hospital, restrained and full of hoses.
apparently someone didn't like me too much. no cops, no witnesses, unrobbed, only assumptions. someone apparently had whacked me. over the head. hard. they found me lying in a yard on 36th and pennsylvania.
subdural hematoma. brain surgery. plates and screws, stitches and staples. pic line, peg tube, tracheotomy, catheter.
a month later, i left st. luke's, atrophied and cynical. anti-seizure meds, laps around the field and barbells. two months later, i was stronger than i'd ever been. fearless.
i don't recognize st. pat's as a holiday much anymore.
as a joke, i wear a shamrocked hardhat.

a seasonal haiku:
what a fucking sham-
saints valentine and patrick;
burn in hell you dicks.