Thursday, June 18, 2009

the feel of a waltz runs through your fingers,

shivers and twists, and still it lingers.

when i miss you,
i cry.
i pound my baby-tiny fists into the twisted dreaded woven mess of overdyed underbleached fuckups galore that lies in my scalp and grows its way into nowhere; headaches abound, i weep.
i press my face into whatever material i can grasp onto, feeling the spot on my thigh where we last brushed like it's a battle scar, wonder and memory controlling my senses. i feel the heat seep from my face as i simply cry into space, moving and writhing my body in the darkness to try and extract some sort of comfort from these sheets that envelop me.

(i could write novels of remembrance, of how your voice cannot even comfort, how your presence is all my body craves, how vivid my memories can be, how we are each one's halves, how we are magnetized by the poles; but no amount of literary purging can make these feelings depart.)

when i cannot bring the feeling of your proximity to my consciousness,
no sun can warm me, no drug can cure me. i am the same as the stormcloud ahead, looming slow and sad and scary above every tiny happy intertwined fingers, resting between hips on the sofa, watching tv with a head rested on a shoulder.
i want to electric-volt zap every little conglomerate like they're the scum of the earth, daring to whisper sweet nothings to the inner ear.

i can't help but miss you, boy. you know my trouble with loneliness and now the option to crawl back to every poison lip, every nettled touch that ever rested on my form, well, it's gone. you are my protector from each cruel slap to sanity, each bad decision placed at my choosing. and of course i thank you, of course i worship your presence, of course i cry for the familiarity that tingles in the skin on my inner arms.
like a stolen antique from an old house;
the patterned dust screams of a thief.

one day, some day,
we can fall asleep close each and every night
and need not worry of the hour on the clock
you're my cinderella boy; gone always at the stroke of twelve.

i know it makes you sad to see me cry, but it's for you.
i'd rather be crying alone for a heart halfway home in a big white truck, than a heart beating next to mine, as i lay kept awake by the hate for the body.
peace and love always.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

serendipity

i have more future than i ever imagined nowadays
springing from my fingertips and the ends of brain neurons
the longest cells in your body are the ones that run from your spine to the tips of your toes
but they never took interconnection into consideration

i can feel that i love you.
i always miss your hands and your face in front of mine
red cheeks to kiss and eyelids to close
we learn with each other every moment we spend in the presence
i love the taste of your drink on your lips
and your voice when you slur and smile and i can almost see
i am saying everything to
someone i can say anything to
i am trying my hardest not to let how lucky i know i am to get lost
even when it does it always comes back

lets not get too routine
i don't need what you do
and my time will come
patience is key

but
i have bruises on my knees
and more broken blood vessels
elsewhere

i have never been this close to anyone ever before
i never want to be this close to anyone else but you
ever again

if i am your gem then you are my emerald eye prince
if i were only a jewel on your finger
with the grace to see the face each day
i'd be content

like two atoms in a molecule
we are inseparably combined

love letters with a recipient
i can't thank the gods enough