(no subject)
We were high. But all that meant was that we were unselfconscious enough to be honest. Not that our brain-to-mouth filter left us, but we were truthful in different ways. In a silent way. In a subtle and subconscious way. In the way you believe vibes can say it all when you're that high. All of the windows of my mind had opened inwardly, to myself, about myself. I wasn't aware that you wanted to climb over the pies on the sill, or that you were trying to. I want to open my windowpane eyelids again, for you. I want to crawl in behind your doorknob teeth to apologize and curl up on the rug in the back of your throat. I'm sorry. I didn't know. Please melt into my membranes. You were warm like candle wax. Do you understand how I needed to make shapes with my hands? I don't think you could read the notes I left in invisible ink. I wanted to leave them in marker. I'm leaving them now in the only way I know how to shout. Please understand that when you play them backwards the devil says 'I love you'. I'm trying to keep myself from begging. I plead every night so you can't hear me. If this is the only thing you understand, I need to know, can you play the cello?