some prose

The song on the radio takes my breath away. I gasp and grip the wheel, blinking the unwanted tears away. I cut the power to the stereo, but the silence is worse. It screams at me. Shouts the truths I don’t want to hear. Another song to drown that truth and add another. On my iPod, I make a playlist of songs with no lyrics. But the melodies haunt me. The rhythms and cadences of drums and strings pull me along as strongly as any lyric. My emotions are up for grabs. Easily manipulated. I have no control over what I feel. Only of how I show my feelings. And so I bloody my knuckles on the white-washed cinder block walls, leaving patches of liquid red. I do pushups until the dirty floor will not let me rise again. I write until my fingers cramp or my pen bleeds all its ink away. More pushups. More physical fatigue. Try to keep the tears at bay. Repeat.