(no subject)
i haven't lived long enough in the landscape of men to be quite so jaded. oh, i have known you. i know you still, mountains, islands and rolling stones. i met you on sunny days, rainy days and forgettable days, but i will forget you not. i will come to each of you with bare fists. i will show my teeth and scratch at your surfaces, but what will i win? what will i reveal beneath your silver skin?
I. i am falling asleep while climbing your side, mountain. i drag my feet and use unreliable handholds, hoping to fall. i never fall. i know your face better than my own and now i am bored. i will run from you, for otherwise you will keep me inside your caves, safely.
II. island, i swim to you. i dig my feet into your sandy shores and feel the still fresh sting of saltwater in my open wounds. you are exotic until this isolation inevitably leads to familiarity. i will hate your necklace of sharks and i will leave you in a fit of resentment. you were born to be lonely and i will oblige.
III. i am drawn to you, rolling stone. i plan to follow you to the moon and back with my bags eagerly packed, but you are gone by the time i reach my garden gate. you are diamond potential and i will love you unconditionally. i will track your path through my grass, flattened, and mourn the loss of you more than the others.
once a week, i write formal letters of complaint to my fickle nature, and they are returned, unread. my own geology is a mystery to me and i haven't the time to dissect my layers. (and imagine the horror of reaching the center of myself only to find it cold!) to analyze, over and under, creates distance. the cold miles of the mind are exponentially longer than those we travel by foot. on nights when the moon is too bright for sleep, my thoughts turn textbook and my emotions follow. i have analyzed you, mountains, islands and rolling stones, and now you are novels. you are dictionaries and prototypes, and you are categories to which everyone comforms. yes, i know you. i know all of you so well, yet i greet each of you anew. i touch you, stone and sand, and feel for you with a temporary fire. my veins are rivers of lava, waiting to burst forth and solidify. what form will i take? i am waiting for an explosion to define me.