it's a sinking suspicion, one that shouldn't take as much space as it does, but it does, renting space in the head but not really paying the rent, just sucking, vampyr sucking succubus sucking pig suckling pig some sucking pig (suck). not the kind of thing, you know, that sinking suspicion that the next person i meet that i want to be meeting, it would be better to just buy her a teddy bear and a vibrator, that these aren't just a great gift basket, but would be better and more efficient for her, and would save time. not that kind of thing, and not the notion, you know, that i want to fall in love with the next woman i meet, or even, not even, i want to meet the next one i am going to fall in love with because right now i'm tired of going through the past 18 months, and taking the best parts and making them into shrinky dinks that i can keep on a keychain. but my keychain is full. that's something. that's something i can say that's not as sad as i feel today. sad because not because not because i lost you, but because you lost me, and if i look at the fetishes on my keychain long enough, i can see traces of the x that marks the moment when i left (it took 7 x 7 times of that many moments at the edges of the sea to see the c i left in the sand that marks the spot where i left, that's the moment there, marked in sand and through sand to the rock beneath. sand is the skin and the rock is the bone. salt water runs through the channels of the world like blood through the veins. the aboves and belows keep multiplying in combinations of 7. including grief. yes, even that.
the part that makes my stomach start to sink the most, the part that cut through the side to the bone beneath, it had no special membrane to hold secrets, nothing but loss, nothing but bloodletting, was the time when the room and the kitchen and the heartbeats and breath became so very dreamy, narcotic without the injection, the time when i thought i saw you in the kitchen, at the back of the room, outside by the pool telling me you wish i wouldn't smoke so much, i thought i saw you, and seeing you reminded me that i wasn't seeing you because you weren't there, that you had a place there but you weren't in it, like a silhueta on the other side of a window, i saw where you were not, i saw you'd slipped out, and i understood that you left without saying goodbye for good, or maybe you did and i didn't hear you because i was listening to the blood inside my skull when i thought i was hearing the ocean.
if you did come back, if you had an inkling to come back, you wouldn't return, because you are too proud to return, i know you very well, but if you had an inkling, i would fight for your place there, because i believe you have a rightful place there...this is spoken as a brother not a lover, in that room, i want you there fighting with your crazy wind moving the world moving the leaves in the forests of the world, making things happen. all to say, at the end of the day, i went to sleep with the sea in my head and it wasn't the blood in my skull, it was the sea, and i went to sleep, as someone who was a lover, i was grateful to you, but as someone who was your friend, i was angry that you left, and am still angry, and i don't know what that means when my head gets hot.
it might mean what it means right now, that if i saw you, i would take your face in my hands, and i would open your mouth with my rough and aching hands, and you would be forced to taste and to speak this bleeding breathing coming crying life, and learn how to grow up and to embrace these things that are your children (or at least half children). and if i remember right, if you saw me, you would take my lips between your teeth, and pull me toward you, and turn your nails at a 70 degree angle, to pull me toward you, all tooth and claw, forcing me toward you and keeping me from pulling away, and the fetishes around my neck are melting into butter, and i can't remember what was ever lost there, i can't remember why i was so upset, and i can't remember why they told me that i should hate you. maybe i can't remember because i never did hate you, i'm only angry at you because you left without saying goodbye, and, when you realized you weren't coming back, you didn't have the courage to let me know. i would still be angry, but not like this, not like today, and today, i have the ocean at my back and under my feet, and i don't pray for you to come back, but that they send me somebody who can kiss me like that. try stopping a white horse come marching, try stopping a white horse, try taming a white wolf on a hot day with nothing but blood on your fingertips, try blocking the drains when your house is being submerged by the sea, a spot of red on a field of white and you'll know that i'm still so very close, this time i'm very close, lock heels and wrists because we are so so very close...
the part that makes my stomach start to sink the most, the part that cut through the side to the bone beneath, it had no special membrane to hold secrets, nothing but loss, nothing but bloodletting, was the time when the room and the kitchen and the heartbeats and breath became so very dreamy, narcotic without the injection, the time when i thought i saw you in the kitchen, at the back of the room, outside by the pool telling me you wish i wouldn't smoke so much, i thought i saw you, and seeing you reminded me that i wasn't seeing you because you weren't there, that you had a place there but you weren't in it, like a silhueta on the other side of a window, i saw where you were not, i saw you'd slipped out, and i understood that you left without saying goodbye for good, or maybe you did and i didn't hear you because i was listening to the blood inside my skull when i thought i was hearing the ocean.
if you did come back, if you had an inkling to come back, you wouldn't return, because you are too proud to return, i know you very well, but if you had an inkling, i would fight for your place there, because i believe you have a rightful place there...this is spoken as a brother not a lover, in that room, i want you there fighting with your crazy wind moving the world moving the leaves in the forests of the world, making things happen. all to say, at the end of the day, i went to sleep with the sea in my head and it wasn't the blood in my skull, it was the sea, and i went to sleep, as someone who was a lover, i was grateful to you, but as someone who was your friend, i was angry that you left, and am still angry, and i don't know what that means when my head gets hot.
it might mean what it means right now, that if i saw you, i would take your face in my hands, and i would open your mouth with my rough and aching hands, and you would be forced to taste and to speak this bleeding breathing coming crying life, and learn how to grow up and to embrace these things that are your children (or at least half children). and if i remember right, if you saw me, you would take my lips between your teeth, and pull me toward you, and turn your nails at a 70 degree angle, to pull me toward you, all tooth and claw, forcing me toward you and keeping me from pulling away, and the fetishes around my neck are melting into butter, and i can't remember what was ever lost there, i can't remember why i was so upset, and i can't remember why they told me that i should hate you. maybe i can't remember because i never did hate you, i'm only angry at you because you left without saying goodbye, and, when you realized you weren't coming back, you didn't have the courage to let me know. i would still be angry, but not like this, not like today, and today, i have the ocean at my back and under my feet, and i don't pray for you to come back, but that they send me somebody who can kiss me like that. try stopping a white horse come marching, try stopping a white horse, try taming a white wolf on a hot day with nothing but blood on your fingertips, try blocking the drains when your house is being submerged by the sea, a spot of red on a field of white and you'll know that i'm still so very close, this time i'm very close, lock heels and wrists because we are so so very close...
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