we'd dance like a heart attack
i wrote this, last night. latelatelate. listening. always listening. thinking. breathing:
***
i'm lying on the couch now, buried under blankets cos fuck the heat, i awnt soft warmth pressed against my skin. the digital display is flashing green 11:51. i sort of wish i could go back in time forty minutes, cos id know exactly what you're thinking. id know youre wishing. are you, still? for scarred boys and girls across town, across teh country?
i'm listening to lullaby, it will never not make me think of you, i wonder if thats different from it always making me think of you. that could alice in wonderland playing croquet in my thoughts though, saying what you mean vs meaning way you say, i eat what i see vs i see what i eat, only you dont eat ever. you spread your heart thin, thin like the skin stretching over your hipbones, they jut out like a skeleton, a shipwreck pushing out from the sand. or so i'd imagine. i wouldnt know would i. id love to dive in and explore you, you have an empty stomach but are filled with so much. golden hearts that dont rust ever trapped inside the hope chest of your ribs. i wonder if you are also filled with faith. i always say god is the greatest invention ever but i still dont believe, instead i say 'i have faith in people', not like that. its so hard to relate to the whole human race, but i'll scream myself hoarse across the great divide. tell me have i hatched or have i gone bad? breathing shallowly inside an egg, a fragile shell, "do the butterflies in your stomach come from cocoons?". my gut is so filled with them i'm choking. but there i go again there i go again there i go again...
i dont know why i put this song on repeat, its embedded in my head, contstantly looping through the circuits in my brain. will my words mean that much to anyone, ever? i dont know. i dont know anything, neither do you, maybe thats the whole point i said. they try so hard not to die they forget to appreciate life. but youve had your stomach lined with charcoal, overdoe insomnia anxiety heartache. "medicating perfection". i always think the church channel, rainbow pill four course meals, drawing infinity, reading the bible, where the fuck is my epiphany? my heavenly intervention?. youyouyou.
can we play hide and seek in heaven? we'll make it a date, i'll dress my best. i have no one to hold hands with buried deep in the ground, id love to sleep beside you but i'll settle for rotting to dust, to dust, to dirt. instead i'll be burnt to cinders. poured into concrete mixed, built into the foundation of a hospice or mausoleum. an encore for the dead. a parade. but im getting so far off the point, what i meant to say so many sentences back is,
my breath will catch if you say i'm worth dying for,
but my heart will burst if you ever say i am worth living for.
live for me, breathe for me, sing for me.
its dark and my fingers brush against ghosts, im not so afraid, your name running miles in my head. these ghosts can sleep in my bed tonight, i'll take the floor. you're about as reachable as me touching the moon, but its okay.
ill leave it hanging there to light up the dark for you, walking the streets at four am and thinking about him.
shining brighter at night.
putting the sun to shame.
always.
***
this is my last entry in this journal until the end of summer. in those lazy languid days i can be found at
brighteratnight.