June 21, 2006

surrounded by stories, surreal and sublime

I’ve gotten to this place where I feel most alone in small groups and lying in bed with him, paining for him to wake up, staring at him, questioning my place in the world. There is a giant vat of emptiness in my chest, a cylinder of translucent nothingness that can momentarily be filled by kisses or whipped topping but so easily is completely empty, resounding with echoes. The curliness of my handwriting seems to change daily similarly to the ideas of my future. It’s too much to question future at this time in my mind and yet it’s the only question I am asked daily. So I’ll put on some pink sparkly eye shadow and hide behind Minnie Mouse sized eyelashes so no one but strangers can see how deep it has all become. I wanted my hair to look like that of a pixie and yet my thighs would never fit beneath her delicately jagged skirt. Maybe I am living in renaissance fairly tales for the only thing that makes sense is running away to Paris. To hide among pastries and stripes, to sit under the Eiffel tower in the hot summer sun waiting on brief rain clouds. I want to wake up in satin hotel sheets, in all my loneliness, only to glide out onto a terrace to be surrounded by words I may never know the meaning of. Instead I make him tell me bedtime stories.

June 14, 2006

my jungle

I heard a heartbeat and pressed my hand to the wall to feel the music. I closed my eyes to imagine a hot jungle beyond my palm. Panthers slinking among miniskirts and shirtless young men. Vines and serpents hanging in an iridescent smoke, all things swaying to that same heavy beat. Just as I caught the eyes of the Panther I awoke in a blanketed sweat only to find the heartbeat was my own ringing in my ears, however the shirtless boy was there next to me his staring eye wide in the early morning. I smiled and kissed his bicep that was my pillow and turned to continue my dreams. Before I found myself in the jungle I began to ponder why he was awake staring at me and checked to make sure he really was awake. It was true his prehistoric eyes were open but still full of sleep. I stared into them imagining if it was possible that he was dreaming my same dreams. I began to dose off but fought so I could watch his own sleep process in the bright light of dawn. I soon found his eyes to be closed and I once again felt the safety of his arms and returned to my jungle trip.

June 08, 2006

alone with my thoughts for a slow week

I want to see your face, that’s all I’m longing for, your face; I look at the little pictures and your face. I imagine your hands holding various items, forks, baseballs, my hand, and edges of blankets. I remember your touch and how its changed and softened in the recent months as if your gentleness is reflecting my own heart’s softening. You remind of that song “your hands are in my hair and my heart is in your teeth and it makes my want to make you near me always, near me always” and yet I am reminded by everyone around me, around us daily of how it will end, how it will end so soon, too soon. And the inkling has begun, the slow inkling like a soft rain in the back of my mind, especially after this slow lonely week and the inkling has infiltrated my rational thought and here I am almost thinking sure we could do this, do this for awhile. But luckily the minuscule amount of rational I have left is holding on to the fact that I couldn’t let what we do have turn into the nastiness that long distance has been for me. Its beautiful for now and blooming so quickly as tears are heating my face I have to let go of my romantic forever notions and yet I hold on, I question if maybe you saw all of this pain, and fear and truth that lives within my words would all of our rational disappear and would we find ourselves among frequent flyer miles and free long distance plans?