(no subject)
i just told stories about train travel, car accidents, my mother like she's so far away, sudden rustling, night-blooming jasmine, florida summer air thick and full and insecure and uncertain all night. i drag my tongue across my dry warm lips and wonder if you'll ever call me. i try to talk myself out of caring about it, but i just keep walking back into that morning when i tried to focus on the obvious but all i could hear was the ticking of my watch, too loud on its yellow vinyl band, cartoonish and child-like. in free fall i scrape the loamy walls of the rabbit hole. roots and sticks and leaves snag in my hair and catch on my skin, leave welts and scratches and tearing my clothing. the bottom comes up to meet me with a hard smack, a kind of bouncing landing that bruises my shoulders and my back, and you say you want to see me, are you ok? where does it hurt? who is the president? i can't answer. i gape and gasp and my mouth moves to form words but there are too many teeth in the way, my tongue is too swollen and there is too much mucus and blood, moving around. filling my mouth when i try to talk to you. i spit and spit but it keeps filling until i quit, i just give up and drift off. your princess is in another castle, so i go there, and the gates are open, wide open, waiting for me. a lavish feast of flowers waits for me, woven together and beautiful. we sit down to it together and discover new states of mind. new places to sleep. new trails to blaze. the horses are already in the stable, tacked and ready for us. i look out, and breathe deep, wet air filling my lungs but i don't feel like i'm drowning. i just feel warm and dry and brown, and i stand under the waterfall and wonder will you ever call me?