purge #1
LOTR RPS
Billy POV
Monaboyd
G
Cleaning house. I wrote this back on February 20th. Got another less-aged fic I need to purge at some indefinite point in the unforeseen future as well.
Synesthaesia
Your favorite letter is N.
N is for Neville who died of ennui.
Nonsense. For someone who loves babies, you have a sick sense of humor, Gorey-poisoned and Python-hacked. When you are bored, I ask you to write "Romans Go Home" one hundred times on the side of our trailer. And you laugh far too much as I smack the hand you write upon, correcting your deliberately bad Latin, smearing the fresh black ink on your translucent skin. (I conjugate your veins as unread letters.)
I lift your hair, tug your ear and spill out your imperatives, arrange them in abecedarian manner.
~
Your favorite color is blue. Any blue: cobalt, sky, lapis lazuli, cornflower. A myriad collection of blue hues. But most of all, you tell me, you prefer blues coursed through with yellows. In the end vernal green will thaw your winter blue. You tell me this with a smile. You tell me this and I smell ozone, feel air sway me sideways, warm and tickled and gently alert. Your fingers are always too close to my arms, my hairs reach out to you like weeds to be pulled into your dirt-dusted hands. But you never quite touch me. You never quite pull me free.
~
Yesterday your favorite song was "Just Like Honey." We named colors from the side of the dance floor, getting in everyone's way, saying "sorry" a dozen times. Never moving, except in our bodies: our pulses dictating contrapuntal rhythm. You inhaled fast on the heels on my inhale, light dripping around your mouth where you buzzed with vowels and consonants that stuck into words I could not possibly hear.
Your favorite song today is "Song for Bob Dylan." In the morning, you announce that we all must address you as your new alter-ego, King Dom. During lunchtime, I cut a scrap of cardboard into a crude crown shape. You find me as I'm taping it together, and I sing, "here he comes, oh here he comes." I jump up to place my crown on your golden head, lopsided. You ruffle the fringe on my plaid scarf, cheeks gorging into bright red apples, and you ask, "Did you use Scotch tape?"
Tomorrow I hope it will be "Clocks." We will sit and watch the wall, sit and watch hands glide in circles, sit and listen to the ticking of our hearts trying to keep tempo with an off-beat tune.
We will subdivide, count on our fingers.
We will.
Dip the light up on the tips of our fingers, smudge its musky kohl under our eyes.
We will.
Taste each other's smiles to the soundtrack of twilight.
We will shoot and not miss.
~
Every one of my favorite things is you.
~
These things I keep, gather into a ball, roll around on my tongue, and can't hope to swallow, like paper, but do anyway. I do anyway.
~
*"Just Like Honey" is by the Jesus + Mary Chain and can be found on Psychocandy.
*"Song For Bob Dylan" is by David Bowie and can be found on Hunky Dory.
*"Clocks" is by Coldplay and can be found on A Rush Of Blood To The Head.
And I realize neither Dom nor Billy are likely to say "Scotch tape" (instead of cellotape), but, well. The pun doesn’t work otherwise, does it? ;)
Billy POV
Monaboyd
G
Cleaning house. I wrote this back on February 20th. Got another less-aged fic I need to purge at some indefinite point in the unforeseen future as well.
Synesthaesia
Your favorite letter is N.
N is for Neville who died of ennui.
Nonsense. For someone who loves babies, you have a sick sense of humor, Gorey-poisoned and Python-hacked. When you are bored, I ask you to write "Romans Go Home" one hundred times on the side of our trailer. And you laugh far too much as I smack the hand you write upon, correcting your deliberately bad Latin, smearing the fresh black ink on your translucent skin. (I conjugate your veins as unread letters.)
I lift your hair, tug your ear and spill out your imperatives, arrange them in abecedarian manner.
~
Your favorite color is blue. Any blue: cobalt, sky, lapis lazuli, cornflower. A myriad collection of blue hues. But most of all, you tell me, you prefer blues coursed through with yellows. In the end vernal green will thaw your winter blue. You tell me this with a smile. You tell me this and I smell ozone, feel air sway me sideways, warm and tickled and gently alert. Your fingers are always too close to my arms, my hairs reach out to you like weeds to be pulled into your dirt-dusted hands. But you never quite touch me. You never quite pull me free.
~
Yesterday your favorite song was "Just Like Honey." We named colors from the side of the dance floor, getting in everyone's way, saying "sorry" a dozen times. Never moving, except in our bodies: our pulses dictating contrapuntal rhythm. You inhaled fast on the heels on my inhale, light dripping around your mouth where you buzzed with vowels and consonants that stuck into words I could not possibly hear.
Your favorite song today is "Song for Bob Dylan." In the morning, you announce that we all must address you as your new alter-ego, King Dom. During lunchtime, I cut a scrap of cardboard into a crude crown shape. You find me as I'm taping it together, and I sing, "here he comes, oh here he comes." I jump up to place my crown on your golden head, lopsided. You ruffle the fringe on my plaid scarf, cheeks gorging into bright red apples, and you ask, "Did you use Scotch tape?"
Tomorrow I hope it will be "Clocks." We will sit and watch the wall, sit and watch hands glide in circles, sit and listen to the ticking of our hearts trying to keep tempo with an off-beat tune.
We will subdivide, count on our fingers.
We will.
Dip the light up on the tips of our fingers, smudge its musky kohl under our eyes.
We will.
Taste each other's smiles to the soundtrack of twilight.
We will shoot and not miss.
~
Every one of my favorite things is you.
~
These things I keep, gather into a ball, roll around on my tongue, and can't hope to swallow, like paper, but do anyway. I do anyway.
~
*"Just Like Honey" is by the Jesus + Mary Chain and can be found on Psychocandy.
*"Song For Bob Dylan" is by David Bowie and can be found on Hunky Dory.
*"Clocks" is by Coldplay and can be found on A Rush Of Blood To The Head.
And I realize neither Dom nor Billy are likely to say "Scotch tape" (instead of cellotape), but, well. The pun doesn’t work otherwise, does it? ;)