| listen: the higher you fly, the harder it is to breathe. the harder it is to see all that's below you; to see the ones that helped get your glorious kite off the ground in the first place. you owe them just that much, don't you? for them to at least catch the occasional glimpse of your lofty form between those clouds and the sun's rays pressing down on their heavy eyelids? we would all love to have a kite that will carry us to heaven's blinding gates, the ideal circumstance, but it seems kites like those are going extinct with infinity between. i'd be happy just to have a balloon to tie to my pinky, one that won't float off at the slightest breeze, hover vastly out of reach of my outstretched fingers among the teetering spires of brick and mortar, modern corridors of hell-scorched babylon, simply to waver, depressurize, and pop. --- yesterday i spent nearly 12 hours in the cruel swift winds that rarely blow so sharp on the curvature of vermont's unyielding mountainous visage. the mothed-whisper flap of hurled disks, my thin frame billowing like a sheer cloth spectre in the aeolian currents, boreal, languish, edacious, rapacious, voracious, you in my heart, inclement, imagined as calid within, cocooned in solace, consolation, breathing pure valor, grit, mettle, comma comma comma. i was with you in spirit and i clasped your hands ever so tightly. i hoped maybe you felt the murmur of my labored breaths on your palm. --- what could possibly be harder to bear than the responsibility of love? the only bones i have snapped in twain where those with which to wish upon, eyes clamshelled tight, vibrating, fingers crossed like adulterous lovers. it's unfortunate that i cannot do the same with every beating breastdrum i've torn asunder. there have been but a few, but a few is a few too many, yet they were for the greater good; in saying this i am comparing myself to something unselfish. that is the most selfish thing i have done today. i find it eerie how accurately you predict my responses to our bimanous embrace; have you been outside my window daily, taking notes? was that you? now i feel just terrible for closing the blinds. i'm not particularly fond of tequila. make it peppermint schnapps and it's a date, crapulous and bedraggled as it may be. --- can you follow me? i have something to show you. it's the black sand expanse of societal expectations. can you see me over there? buried up to my neck? raisined eyeballs and scorched tongue, heat-blistered like ripe raspberries, food for the fire ants? am i such an open book? yes, i have found what im looking for and yes, though i fought for it, i watched it walk away and yes, it is taunting me (albeit inadvertently). she is just within reach, the surface of our lips brushing past each others' on occasion; deadening, oxycodone kisses. but now she is giving another patient her medications while i am in the bed across the room, in full-bodied cast, in full range of view, with full understanding. this is my rehab and it has been crushing me to dust. she is the maiden, i am the star youth suitor, and i have chosen the leaden casket. i guess she prefers more precious metals. --- yes, she was nice. she was nicer than nice. she was like live music and crushed velvet and autumn leaves and aged whiskey all sewn into a narrow 5'7" bundle of warm hugs and perfect soft kisses and subtle perfume. --- we can wonder about our future for days, months, eons even. however i believe, for you, it calls for arms calloused, weather blasted, able to cling to your radiant glare, torch-hearted, brazen, undamaged by the epidermal inferno, yet able to melt for you all the same. don't expect a hero. expect the crawling lace of fingers, the pressure of thighs, gestating emotion; ivory, ivory, glistening ivory, please don't expect him to love at first sight. as your best friend, there is no way i can mislead you in good conscience. however, if you would like me to lie to you anyway, i suppose your smile will loosen the rust-sung chain tight on my iniquitous soul. everything is perfect and everything is wonderful and as long as we remain in our colloquial waltz, glottogonic, nonvernacular, you will forever be without regret. this is the only way i can protect you. --- as for myself and this earth, without her? seethe with poison. burn to ash. |
Author notes
Candy blood, rosewood, golden throat you.
Typical, typical, typical me.
Adding your comment: