Category: Prose

your face seems unsure in that moment and i wonder why, perhaps there is a story that you’re not telling or i’m not admitting. there are truths that are self-evident and truths that are self-denied. we both find this truth to be evident and denied at the same time with no clear border drawn to seperate the two. any philosopher could plainly see with no shoulds or oughts that you and i are completely unseperated: infact-wemaybe-together-eveninthought. what if, what if, what if. not if but when.

slowly i fade into you. pink cheeks, white flesh, brown eyes, mahogany hair, black shirt, blue jeans. you smudge around the edges. a slow hand holds me down until i can’t breathe and i want to die, i don’t want to breathe. i come up gasping for air.

your back curves slightly in front of me and i remember you and the angle of your form that i prefer more than any other — the curve of your back. maybe you’ve been excersizing, or something. maybe i’ve just forgotten it. maybe i’ve forgotten you. maybe i’ve forgotten everything. then. slam crash boom. i remember it, you, everything.

peacefullness is a burial shroud as i realize my favorite view of you is when you walk away.

“i only like girly-girls” and its okay because its true and i can’t fight you for it and in this sense its the best compliment i’ve ever gotten because i don’t want to be like other girls and i won’t axe you when you walk away so its alright and we’re still friends and now that’s all and i guess that’s good but i’m too vain to let it go; maybe i should die. and maybe i should quit trying to push and pull and hide away from her. cos she’s not a girly girl either. but she might axe me if i walk away.

‘course she might do that anyway.
just for kicks.

please don’t to this, i’m begging, pleading and the kicks come swiftly and too the soft parts of the body. stomach. stomach. stomach. stomach. face. and my face is soft because of all of the tears i haven’t been crying it just melts away. it blows away in the wind and you just watch, laughingly. you: ‘look at that girl, she said “i love you” and i could never ever love her.’ you said the words back to me and kicked me in the middle of the brain.

i have no heart. you ripped it out.

We all turned to watch you hang at Guantanamo Bay. Your body swaying in the wind–limp and alive at once–you hang. When you finally die, we’ll spread your ashes in the soil of the world. You used to tell me late at night, whisering while I was fast asleep, ‘I love so many people and countries, I do.’ I heard you and I watched as a red cross van in camouflage pumped your colors into the veins of others’ infrastructures. Blood transfusions save lives, you said. I watched you hang at Guantanamo Bay and realized you were lifeless. My blood cannot save you.

i was wondering where you were and then i thought about you. i stopped thinking about you. then i read all of the things that i wrote about you and that was so long ago and i won’t admit it but i still know who that girl is. i still remember her so well. and i remember driving and smoking and sweating in your car while this song played so loud and it was so loud until jessica stopped the music and then there was silence except for my head. which was screaming. because i’ve never weighed the possibility that you may be a (i believe you put it this way) you may be a mistake.

i wrote my favorite lyrics to one of your favorite songs and you illustrated them and passed it back to me, drawing the story of how hard we tried. and you and i would never try at all. instead we’d just float. just exist. near each other sometimes. and we were only supposed to be friends and i came about learning that the hard way. because we never tried at all. and i never tried at all. and you never tried at all. we only tried to push each other away. and we succeeded. you’re so gone now, i don’t even remember your face. but what about that photograph you say and i say nothing. because you didn’t say a thing. maybe this was all just in my head and you were never real all along.

i’d say i’m sorry and i’d look you in the eyes and tell you the whole truth and i’d realize that you’d probably only heard 20% of what i said from anyone else and that it might hurt you so you might only pay attention to 20% of what i was saying and then i’d tell you i was sorry, again but that it really wasn’t my place to change anything, that i was sorry but its not my fault i’m better and that i was sorry but i can’t tell you the truth because i don’t even know it anymore and i can’t tell you the truth because i only remember about 20% of it and its a completely distorted 20% at that. i’m sorry. i’d say. i can’t tell you anything because i don’t feel bad about what happened to you. and you’d ask me why i wrecked into your car and i’d apologize for doing it but say that i don’t know. but you’d know. its only me that doesn’t know anything.

we aren’t boring people–you and me–we have far to much drama circling around us but most of the time i’ll say something crazy. really fucking crazy. and you’ll just understand, you get it. and you say that back to me and we go back to whatever boring, no not boring, thing that we were doing before. i’m usually the crazy one. this especially but not necessarily applies to you. and as we watch the same movie–second time in three days–we hear the rain begin (again again, is the sky boring like we are?). you say i feel like standing in the rain. and my eyes light up as i begin to stand. we walk out the door and i kick my shoes back into the house, they’re new for wearing tomorrow. we stand in the rain and the rain falls around us. you know, you say, seattle doesn’t rain like this. it just kind of mists. i say, it sometimes rains like this, it did once when i was there. but, breathe in. you breathe in. i continue, you don’t get that smell in seattle. you love the smell of ozone. me too, we like limes in our water and comfortable couches, sean connery, bad fake accents (ours, because we ahhhhr shhaahhhhn caaaaahnaaaahry.), good music and. “lets go to wi-chi-tah.”