Not In Love

Going back to
Reality - isn't an option. But,
Easing my soul into
Yours. Is.

Things That Change

Once upon a time I was

flesh and blood and bones, 

I breathed the infinitesimal stars and the sky

and I breathed the universe.

I had the fire of the sun

between my ribs and 

the swiftness of the wind

in my legs 

(I unfolded them like wings). 

I had hair interwoven with thunder bolts and a 

head full of hurricanes. 

Perhaps I have spun on my axis alone

for too long. 

Perhaps I swallowed the inexhaustible salt of

loneliness too much -

because now, my 

dreams are scattered like constellations

in the perennial night

and my heart

is the color of

dying leaves. 

A Story of Teeth

I remember when I was 6 and my baby teeth were dropping like flies throughout the year. Remember how the falling off of baby teeth would form a border in the transition from being babies to being full-fledged children? Despite the initial horror of toothlessness (which I then overcame by trying not to show my teeth when I smile) I was delighted that I was finally getting rid of whatever categorized me as a baby. It was when I was trying to grow up too fast and had no discernible idea of what growing up meant. 

Anyway, I started a collection of baby teeth after deciding that I couldn't bear to throw away a part of myself. I think I was scared that all the teeth I dumped over the years would come together and form the phantom of a mouth I once had but without my lips or my tongue or my oral cavity. It would be two rows of vengeful, malicious teeth snapping their way into my bedroom when I sleep and haunt me for the rest of my life. Far-fetched, I know, but you know how kids are. 

So the first two teeth were given the royal treatment. I used to brush and clean them individually then rinse them in Listerine every night before placing them back into their little bed of cotton wool in a matchbox from England that my aunt gave me. I lost both of them in an unfortunate incident in which they were washed down the sink when I drained the water. The next three survived for another year before I grew bored of cleaning baby teeth every night and just left them in their bottle until they rotted. I washed them down the sink, this time of my own free will. I traded the succeeding one with my brother for dominance over the TV remote control. (He wanted to watch Ed, Edd and Eddie but I wanted to watch The Book of Pooh) I still don't know what he wanted with my tooth. 

I lost more teeth as the years went by, mostly due to similar incidents and once because I planted two teeth in the garden after the dentist told me about teeth having roots and all. I now have approximately ten more in a bottle filled with mouthwash (because I am too lazy to have to clean them every night or even every month) and they have all turned Listerine blue. They remind me of floating fetuses in jars of formaldehyde and I certainly have developed a kind of... maternal(?) feeling towards them over the years. The first two even had names: William and Harry. Dead serious. 

I don't know why I'm remembering this now but Born to Die is making me strangely nostalgic. It makes me sad to think of William and Harry and the others. It's like having a cemetery of unborn babies. 

You Know What's Beautiful?

In French, you don't really say "I miss you". You say "tu me manques", which is closer to "you are missing from me".

I love that. "You are missing from me." You are part of me. You are essential to my being. You are like a limb, or an organ, or blood. I cannot function without you.

Blinding

I found my song. ♥

I Don't Know Anymore

I wish you had given me a warning that you're leaving. You know I can never deal with silent partings and sudden disappearances for weeks on end. Or maybe you did, and I was too preoccupied to hear you.

Because that's all I am these days. Preoccupied. Emptiness spreads like a plague through my mind and I feel a hint of terror at this apparent lack of emotion. I've begun dreading staying home and being in my room because that is when I'm at my dead-est. I need to go out, somewhere, anywhere. I'm forever forcing myself to replay scenes or conversations in my mind because I can't bear this blank canvas of a mind I've been having. I can feel the dullness seeping into every crevasse of my body as if I have zombie poison in my veins.

But I do miss you. And I miss me.

Kiss Me

Kiss my feet and they will blossom into an amaranthine meadow of flowers.
Kiss my arms and watch them twist into great, serpentine rivers that intertwine like double-helices.
Kiss my shoulders, they will stretch into two bridges that interconnect planets and systems.
Kiss my lips and taste the golden elixir of honey. You will be immortal.
Kiss my eyes and they will be the eternal stars to guide you through the endless nights.

Fascinating,

don't you think?
You know, the way the birds sort of... swirl around. In the air. I mean, virtual. In the virtual air.
Gah, you know what I mean.
It's mesmerizing. I can't tear my eyes away from it.
Maybe it's just me.

May 7th

Because I let myself wade
into you too prematurely;
first the ankles, knees and thighs.
And suddenly I'm up to my shoulders
in you.

Everything was measured and everything was slow,
and because of that
I believed that I was safe
in the impenetrability of time.
I didn't know that I would
wake up one day
to find that I am
the color of your blood.

Wonderland

I used to have the same fever dreams over and over again; an endless dream sequence set in a place like wonderland.

There, people walk around in a stupor with half-smiles on their faces. They talk about how the sun is shining so brightly, or compliment the precise diamond-like shape of raindrops but when asked about their names or who they are, they fall silent.

You are walking in the middle of a crowd of people; suddenly you stop, turn around and there's no one around you at all. You're standing in a narrow hallway and you can see no end to it. You put one foot ahead of another because there's really nothing else you can do.

She looks at me, her face utterly devoid of emotion and holds out her palm to me. WE'RE ALL MAD HERE, written in faded black ink. She continues licking the ink on her translucent skin.

There's a mirror in front of me and I see you in it; or rather, you see me. And I realize that we're the same person after all. And all the people walking in circles, with their zombie-smiles and their apparent lack of sound minds are more clones of me.

Then the dream would start all over again.