- You seem to love everything and everyone.
Actually… I can’t stand most things or people. I just choose to fill my life with what I love and only invest myself into things I love. I chose my job because I love what I do. I chose my closest friends because I love them as people. I choose to live here because I love this house. I love my girlfriend. I love my dog. I love the movies and the books on my shelves. I love how I spend my time. I even love the way I struggle because I love the reason I’m struggling. Isn’t that the point of having your own life and the ability to choose? So that you can fill it with what you love? I ignore and let go of the rest. The rest is meaningless. It took me a long time and a lot of loss to learn that. My advice is to learn that quicker than I did.
It was somewhere around 3:30 am and it was wet outside. We were parked on the side of the street in front of my house because it felt less bad that way. She was in the driver’s seat and my head was in her lap. She continuously ran her fingers through my hair and it made me smile.
"I thought you didn’t like fingernails."
-I thought you didn’t like girls.
"I don’t know what I like anymore."
-From what I saw tonight… boys with tattoos and long hair who sing in bands that yell a lot…
"I’m tired of it though. I love it and I’m tired of it at the same time. I don’t want to do it anymore. They are all the same."
-Then there is me.
She put her finger on my forehead.
"… And then there is this thing."
There was this girl. She was a once upon a time kind of girl. She was a once I had a dream kind of girl. She was a girl that created a moment kind of girl. She was a fairytale. She had light perfect skin and dark almond eyes. Her hair fell around her face like water flows through a current. She had this name that made voices louder when it was said out loud and letters bolder when it was written down. She was that girl. In every room she was that girl. The kind of girl who could say no and yes at the same time and still get what she wanted. She was the girl that you wanted to know… Needed to know… Had to know… Once she looked at me this girl… Once she looked at me and she smiled this smile that sent beams of light through my chest that were so bright they came out of my eyes and a little of my ears…. The beams were so bright that my heart beat at a rate that could’ve killed me but it would have been such a pleasant death at that time… She was also the kind of girl that you can’t keep. She’s only temporary… She has a face that only the rarest of flowers can wear the colors of… And when you pick flowers they die slow deaths in front of your eyes… She was the kind of girl that was so beautiful she caused a silence… She muted life… With just one look… She made the whole world… quiet.
You were standing beside the road just like yesterday or maybe a week ago. Hands at your side and not looking my way. With a sigh I pulled over slow. Your head just as quick, eyes glazing over me in that “gray or blue” I can’t tell which, kind of way. Opening the door you climbed in and I devoured every detail. Your hair tied up, fingernails unpainted, lips pulled tight in a grim line. It wasn’t the first time that I wondered what type of kiss it would take. To soften them, not seduce. I noticed a new wound in your jeans and wondered who you were escaping the night it appeared.
We drove in silence, as ever before. Unlike our first trip when I flooded you with questions and comments, I had slowly subsided into silent altruism. Though I’m not sure which you preferred. The truck bounced with every change in the road. You held on tightly, staring straight ahead. Nothing was different, this trip was the same as everyone before. But I felt it, the tension. Even in your silence I could tell that this would be the last time I stopped for you. We pulled into the gas station. The abandoned one across from the grain elevator in town. You opened the door, grabbed your bag (which I had always admired for its colourful needlework) and stepped down out of the truck. You hesitated then, and I braced myself. “This will be the last time”, you mumbled, looking down at your feet.
You probably knew me by then. That I would do anything in a heartbeat. That I was ready for the late nights and the tears and the failed attempts only to try and try again until everything was finally ok. You only had to climb back in. I wanted to scream, to shout, to ask you why and where and who and when, but most of all hold you tight, a shield from all the heartache. Giving peace and destroying pain in one single surge of emotion completely dedicated to you.
But instead I just nodded, my lips tightened, imitating yours. A strange thing happened then. I half expected you to look up at me and explain it all. Indecision, maybe, flashed through your mind. However fate prevailed and you walked off. Turning the corner of the building without another word. I knew that I would never see you again. And it was awhile before I would be ok with that.
Let us take a sack of spray paint and spray paint over the paintings.
Lets dance through Paris;
kiss in the shadow of the louve,
crawl inside its windows,
scroll manifesto’s over its canvas’,
write morris’ code on the sculputers,
roll a sleeping bag on the floors to sleep inside of, tell one another a story by flashlight,
unearth everything from before,
burry each other inside the other,
feed grapes to the ants,
light fireworks in the fists of sleeping kings; kill a monarch.
Break back outside and find a world to do all these same things to;
up and upon against break the bricks, climb over them,
and when the sirens scream,
laugh aloud,hold my hand and run fast.
Run through the streets with me with a bunch of bottles,
a bucket of gasoline,
a mouthful of matches,
a pocket full of paintings and fresh faced batch of policemen to chase the fires we are lighting,
laugh on a shoulder of gold.
And I thought that the museums were cemetaries where the dead paid the wall to hold what we had so that we could walk through what we once were,
And children take their sculls to turn into gardens,
to pluck for forefathers and farther stars,
that on some nights resemble an armless mother praying for her arms to return.
Every tooth that we tear from our jaw to fling at the black gloved riot soldiers as another shadow that we are trying to lose.
Let every giggle be filled with lust; let us laugh this night away and I will fuck you like you were a prayer.
I could save me by having my mouth around you,
and I will hold you afterwards like you were the pullpit and I was the sky,
and this love that danced between that hardness was a telephone line of holiness that those two things spoke through.
Take me into your heart like I was a saint,
and you were a face of forgivenss blooming in a valley destined to sink further.
Be a river with me;
Be the storm;
the bend in the path;
the front porch; the heat in the south;
be a boot full of banjo strings;
a fist full of written songs;
a mouthfull of chocolate dust.
When they come to take us,
stab them between the eyes.
Do not take your hand from around mine.
Make a fist with the other, and punch spines like guilds, spit, sweat, kiss them like a grandmother. How will open mouthed terror love filled?
And when they come to cut out hair and ask to hear pennince come from inside us,
say with me loud and trembling,
but loud and clear that:
"I have already emptied myself. I kissed regret goodbye, took the hands of another backwards angel, and rode backwards into the rain"
When the hangman of morrow comes to hang the sun in its daily execution say this with me: “Sarah we are apples, our love is an apple; I’m unbuttoning my shirt; painting a circle over my heart, please… Just shoot straight.”
sign your name across my back
it is not the concrete poured into the foundation
that makes the buildings able to stand up everyday
but rather the words burned across their faces and feet
that some stranger loved them or loved themselves enough to do that
sign your name across my back
it aint the cinder in the timber
but the initials carved that break the trunk open
the tree flaunting its body
look at me
look at what I got
somebody loved something hard enough to use a knife
look at what I got
sign your name across my back
I do not love you as if you were the salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
"What does it feel like… to love like that?"
-It feels different for each person. There is no answer that can fit it.
"What did it feel like for you?"
-Terrifying. The thing I remember the most is being afraid. Every single morning. Every single night. I was always afraid. When I fell asleep and she was next to me… I wanted to sleep forever so that if I woke up and she wasn’t there I would never know she left. I would never open my eyes and see her gone. When she talked…. I wished that I would go deaf after every single time she said she loved me so that I would never hear her take it back or say anything else. I was afraid every time I spoke that I was going to say something that made me not the “one”… It made me wish I was a mute. I think she said one time that she wished that too… I was scared of every single boy with a good face and funny words. I was just scared… Because I knew. I knew I couldn’t do anything that could keep it. I knew she was young. I knew she was beautiful. I knew it was only a matter of fucking time before she … wanted the world. I’m not the world. I’ll never be the world… But she’s the world. She’s how the world is. The world… Life… It’s everything you’re afraid of coming true… It’s closing your eyes with fear in your heart… and waking up alone. That’s what it felt like… For me.
"Well… Where is she now?"
-I don’t know.