Category: Prose

i discovered her at this party when his words were so cajolling, promising a life of pretty pictures and invincibility, so i dove toward my destiny while he hammered out a line i waited so quietly and i held myself down on the chair until at last he delivered to me what i’d always been seeking: my hopes rose like evaporating rain and everything felt so refreshingly beautiful until it didn’t. but god forbid i would quit when something gets dangerous, no, no, no, these cold fingertips are going to be no ones fault but my own and this rushing feeling in my head is just me careening faster, wasting more time as i arrive dangerously at death. she said i love you/i love you/i love you, like it was some sort of song and she fulfilled all of her promises as she nailed the coffin closed pretending the chemicals wouldn’t slow my decay.

the breaks slam in my head and my body aches just a little with all of the memories of the time i realized i was real and suddenly all the stupid things i used to cry about didn’t seem deserving of tears. here’s to the girl who hasn’t cried two weeks in a row all year.

seeing my shadow head away from you, the sun,, my sun, for so long i am remdined of a movie’s line about the sadness as you physically notice the difference between yrself and a lover. i need your gaze so i turn to you without words. my lips only part slightly, wanting a last kiss goodbye but instead i close them. i turn and walk away from myself. when i turn again you’re gone.

i’m not ready to write these words and embrace the possibility that you won’t see them.

i love you and i’m not handling this well.

i think what you said about censorship is true: gathering yr moistures on my fingertips i discover you and consider uttering words like i like you, but instead i save them. gasp. i’ll write a poem later. even when i write poetry to show you something, i know i write poetry to hide something as well. even if you find the truth in these words, even if you hear them spoken, i never have to say it when i make you look.

i stopped only to report, i read once that the difference between boys and girls, linguistically, is that girls stress the adverb and boys stress the adjective. or maybe it was the other way around or girls stressing modifiers and boys stressing nouns sigh yah, it was the modifier/noun thing. i continued only to realize, i’ve always thought the difference between boys and girls, emotionally, was that girls say what they feel and boys don’t. sigh you keep proving me wrong.

if you want to define me by what my panties cover up or by whose floor i find my panties on in the morning, then go ahead. but i won’t be part of it.

flying stoicly at half-mast today while our barbaric chants and lack of sportsmanship made me sympathize, my empathy hardened into apathy so quickly it seemed. amazing: what three years can do.

the blood spreads across the bathtub in a haphazard array, as in all of those artsy films i made you watch with me where creamer dropped into coffee become a fibonnacci sequence. i’m afraid, i blurt out quickly in a whisper because there is no math to solve this. i just ignore probability. how quickly once becomes twice escapes my mind when you hold me: when you hold me you hold me down. you have knives instead of fingers and i have the wounds to prove it. she did them to herself, you’ll claim in a court of your guilty conscience where even seventeen-year-olds are tried as adults. i’ve grown up more in this last week than in any other week this month. i hesitate to say this lifetime. i’d say thank you for the lessons and experience but all i can think is fuck you.

might seemed more probable the last time i said you might be a mistake. a scream heard while driving, while drowning and dying in blood that’s draining as you dread an immenent return and await the realization of so many chinese fortunes: f u c k   y o u. because i’d never hurt you in the worst way you’ve been hurt before but you do it to me without so much as a sincere apology. fuck you.

your honesty. words in a whisper, like they’re not meant to be spoken, or worse: like they’re meant as a monarchial slur. your honesty is why i am. you best describe who i am. your brutality. words in a whipser, like they’re not meant to be heard, or worse: they’re meant.

when my eyes find your body and i know before i reach your face, I should’ve pictured that would be the dress you’d wear, my hand leaves his like its escaping in an attempt to find air above the water but my eyes sink below their lids (or maybe my eyelids just fall and capture them), i’m not sure which. i run to you, in that lackadaisical walking way that i possess, you see me too and you come toward me. did it feel like running or was that just how i felt,

of course i know what running feels like because i’m always running away

,looking into your face i realize that when its just you and me nothing else matters so maybe i should quit letting it be anything but just you and me from now on. my words fall to the floor in a loud crash-bam-boom and you smash them with your non-heels before they find comfort and solace in the carpet which at least hears their utterance. the whole time, i want to run into the bathroom and just die there, crying. the whole time, i want to ask you if its okay to want to kiss you, with my lips but no voice.

i keep thinking i could make this up to you someday