Blood red flowers in the hair and a muse is
reborn. Such an arrogant word from my
lips. I truly am despicable. When will I stop writing these words? I can remember everything. He was desperately looking for a replacement;
such a hopeless fool. And what he found
was so far beyond his comprehension. In
a spring dress as true journalism arises (he would of course later learn that
true sailing is dead). And nothing else
besides. Every thought in every moment
and then an encounter later on after the fact and I was so very wrong about
everything. What have I done? He sees another life and another chance
encounter he knows will never come. Out
on the patio, no, out on the deck. Or
something. Some fucking thing. Good grief, where is she? But out there on a cool summer evening, glass
of wine in hand. What have I done? Why does he still feel anything? He takes so much for the numbness to kick in. I am nothing.
The doctor is in. the voice was
too low, I never understood a fucking thing.
I need to have some hot tea or something. I see it all now through a prism of joyous
obligation. Please forgive me. I so long to kill myself. I see this, I look back and see you and I
often wish a loaded gun would materialize in front of me that I could stick in
my foolish mouth and promptly blow my worthless brains. What was this so close approximation to love
he was feeling. He should have gone out
dancing that night. I’m such a fool. I’m such a worthless individual. He will dedicate that song and many others to
you. Perhaps one day there will be true
success on the table and then something else could be organized and that would
be a blissfully dishonest and cherished moment.
Dishonesty from whom? I don’t
really know. My feelings are my own and
they are not. I could never be deserving
and that is so utterly proper (I think, as my head goes light). My heart bleeds and my spirit sings a sad
song. There are so many likes. He should extinguished everything a long time
ago. Let’s not beat around…I should have
extinguished everything a long time ago, starting with myself. Reading over the same words again and again
and realizing I have always been and forever will be nothing. Let him torture himself. It is deserved and it all amounts to nothing
in the end. Spring dress. And blood red now. Kissed by the moon and stars. I see the error in everything now and I was
always wrong.
Do you see them at dance now? Do you them embracing? The talks.
Always those were everything and now they continue about anything, about
all, already hundreds of thousands of words dedicated; her appearances and
pieces of all his nothing in everything that’s been written down.
Flowers again and a desire to be embraced. Happened once. He is less than nothing. To be the center of your attention. To have you favor. To have your love. So hard to be so open. Mysterious watcher. No one knows who is on the other end of the
glass. In words he finds misery and
solace. Only in fantasy does he find
love.
I’d like to look through your things. such a pure and natural desire. And this case found in the midst of precious
thievery. These gorgeous memories are
not my own. He felt real love. For once he believed he could be happy. He attended every event. This was all so brief. That’s when I realized, just right now in
this moment. I want to be with you
everywhere. He laughs a bit now at the
happy thief but the hearts knows it to be true.
Somewhere with music and water and words spoken in a mysterious language
and a tone of such loving wonderful comfort.
Squeezed so tight and tender.
Days of abandon, days of love and devotion.
All these soft evenings that never came true. I feel the breath of the sunset and I know
it’s a lie but such a glorious lie and there are tears in my eyes because I want
it so bad. He knows exactly what music
would be playing and at least there is one dance for which she will always be
present.
I’m so fucking worthless, nothing I do matters. It was always going to be this way. Of course the only sane option was to leave
him behind. One mind is always somewhere
else. Ah, I see things so clearly
now. I don’t know anything. I don’t know anything.
Things cease to make sense and cease to matter. I suppose that’s okay. She never let me down. he wonders about the physicality of it all
and about the possibilities. Absolutely
nothing could ever be different but this does not stop him from wondering. Delayed communication. What help?
Do you remember celebrating the holiday and the desperation on raw
display. Don’t try so hard to make someone
laugh.
Zero really is my number. Lets laugh and talk about torture. Lets run and fall down. she listened to his meaningless words and for
a brief moment he was in her favor and that was everything. It was all that could ever matter. If only he’d extinguished soon after and that
could be the only lingering sensation. Or
even better, if he could somehow eliminate all traces of himself, present and
past and that she could not even recall even the faintest hint of his visage,
voice or utterly worthless feelings and desires. He now asks forgiveness for all those
things.
Please never settle.
He had nothing to worry about. It
was one of the only beautiful things he ever felt. Warm embrace and warm invitation. Everything so undeserved.
I cackle as I realize there will absolutely never be
a limit to how many words he can spill in her name.
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