Jeffery’s Rubber Tree

Imagine a rubber tree starting its life in a large greenhouse in Louisiana. It started as merely a bulb in a long row of other rubber trees. It is tended by Helena Whitman, a woman who has worked at the greenhouse for thirteen years. The rubber tree grew enough to be placed in a temporary pot till it’s shipped to another facility in Indiana where it is permanently potted into a ceramic pot that is painted a deep cerulean blue. It is then shipped to an Ace Hardware in Cincinnati, Ohio. The quality top soil used at the facility in Indiana allowed the rubber tree to be slightly neglected. However, the plant started to wither and was put on sale. A young blond man bought it. When the blond man and the rubber tree arrive at his apartment, he places the rubber tree under a window on a decorative pedestal that looks like a short Roman column. The rubber tree flourished under the light and the blond man is very attentive to the rubber tree, watering it regularly and sprinkling a bit of nutrients in the top soil ever month or two. In that state the rubber tree became aware of his setting, it felt healthier. The rubber tree thrived in the thick air. Air that seems to carrying around particles of something decomposing. The rubber tree was annoyed by the copious amount of flies, but at ease when the flies die and fall in the tops soil. Their decomposing bodies nourished the rubber tree all the more.
Imagine the rubber plant observing the blond man taking nude photos of young skinny black men on his sofa. Sometimes the plant was in the range of the camera and felt slightly self-conscious, hoping it is glossy and green enough to look good in the photos. Later the he noticed that these men that the blond man have on his couch are like the flies that decompose in its top soil. He wondered if the blond man is nourished by these men in a way similar to how the rubber tree is nourished, because the rubber tree sees theses men being consumed by the blond man. Soon these men are completely gone and metabolized by the blond man. There are so many that the rubber tree became jealous, the blond man didn’t sprinkle the pack of nutrients into his top soil this month. One of the men that the blond man brought over touched the rubber trees leafs. The rubber tree didn’t like it when one of the men stuck his long brown finger into its soil. The tree felt violated and didn’t warn him of the danger of the blond man.
Imagine the back of a moving truck. The rubber tree sits for a few hours while men in white hazmat suits take things out of the apartment. The rubber tree felt sick to be out of its environment. It wasn’t been watered in a few days and misses the blond man . It hasn’t had the nutrient packet and doesn’t like the darkness of the moving truck. The rubber tree is moved into a box then is put outside in a pit along with other things that smell of the blond man and his apartment. It was very cold and dark, the rubber tree almost froze before a fat woman with thick glasses and a frizzy auburn hair takes the rubber tree. She huffed away as she ran with it, some of the soil fell out on the concrete sidewalks and asphalt parking lots. She placed the rubber tree near a window when she got to her house, all the rubber tree saw and felt was the darkness it was taken out of. She waters it and caresses it leafs. The rubber tree missed the blond man. Every person that looked at the rubber tree stuck their finger in the soil. “It was HIS plant, from HIS apartment” she says. The rubber tree got used to the finger poking and started to enjoy it. The woman sprinkles in the nutrient packet and waters it. She took photos of the rubber tree; it feels better and recovers from its longing for the blond man. It watches the woman consuming a lot of things while she watches the television, where the blond man is catatonic and unaware of the rubber tree. The rubber tree became bored with the woman; it began to stare out into the darkness of the night.

I will never again go out with another person that tells me about how many abortions his ex had due to his distaste of condoms. I feel very sad for this girl and wish I could cuddle her at night so she doesn’t have to be haunted by this dude that we both idiotically shared. Lord knows it was a good choice on her behalf to scrape out his seed from her poor uterus , but his selfishness is on the evil slime bag side. I’ve always had a taste for the dark side but he pushed it to limits.

Officially depressed ...again

There is nothing better

There is nothing better than a little bruise left from a lovebite. There is nothing better than a bearded lover that looks like something out of your meanderings of the ways things fit together. There is nothing better than a large mushroom growing quietly in a field of cotton . There is nothing better feeling a kimono that wraps around and inside you. There is nothing better than his black hair , dark and shocking as electric wire.

Dinky the Hunchback

It’s like the past comes to bite you in the ass so hard. A past that wasn’t but a week ago. You think you’re over someone and blam , they pull you right back into their mess. Then when they’re done with you they eject you. How many times do I make up these sex rules for myself and them just break them. I’m feeling a little Holden Caulfield than anything these days . Slightly psychopathic in a very mild mannered way. It’s not that I want to hurt people. I just don’t want to be hurt. I think when it comes to love this is the mantra of the men I date. I feel like I’m holding onto these people like a somewhat empty tube of toothpaste. I’m just hoping to squeeze just a bit more love even though it seems like there is less and less every day. I keep squeezing, say a prayer , and get looks from people when I tell them about my beloved tube of toothpaste.
Freaks. I think these are the kinds of people that will love me. I’m so complicated and messed up that if what was on the inside was on the outside , I would be a carnie. Like seriously. Dinky the Hunchback.

It sucks the all this pain a person has to endure in order to maintain their belief in love. How many times can a person have their hearts broken before they just say fuck it or they are so stingy with their love that it has to be pried out of them. Am I hanging on to bits just so I can feel the occasional rush of love when I’m with this person? History shows yes indeed. Stomp all over my heart, I’ll hate you for a little bit and then love you again in a matter of time. It sucks feeling so deeply while wanting to make others happy. It’s like learning tightrope walk. You’re always falling and hurting, but no matter what you want to make it to the other side without breaking something. I want to videotape my heart falling in and out of love , does change color like a mood ring. Just ever so slightly. Right now it would be that awkward brown that is like indifference mixed with hope, is that possible? I think so because that is how I feel. Not tonight, not 100%.

This is just to say that I crave Nirvana

No I'm not in need of hearing the lat and great Kurt Cobain screech about the injustices of the world.

I want Nirvana as it is define as being the wanting of nothing.

I want to not want

where does a person start with that ?

Is it pure Buddhist logic to think of things like this

I'm always wanting constantly

since I could remember I wanted things

I used to fantasize about having the prettiest pinkest puffiest dressed Barbie when I was a girl

now it's men and makeup and clothes

I love them all but she i didn't

I'm not merely speaking of buyer’s remorse

it's a lot more than that.

It like I’ve put negative energy into the universe every time I don’t get these things

Am I spoiled

I think I was

I have a lot

Not as much as a lot of people

But definitely more that I need

And these decision I make buying and indulging these desires never manifest in satisfaction.

May be every time I fall in love

May be every time I buy something I don’t need

I lose something of myself

Nirvana please grace me with your presence.