Sunday, February 28, 2010

"Am I a cad if I mean everything I say?"

I come to you, in a delusional trance.

Where have you been? All this time?
Stop hiding. This is bad for my nerves.
Let's make out.
Let's not.

He holds you while he kisses your chin.
I'd skip a thousand meals for this.
So I can be sued in a court of law for molesting a starving-Ethiopian-looking creature? No thanks.
And I'll be damned to have a girl who does that?
What girl have you been having?
Fuck that. Let me kiss your wrist.
Get away.
You do it anyway.
That dress you wore, no one else can see you in it. When you cut your hair, give it to me.
You're creepy as hell.
And you're my lover.
No I'm not.
What are you talking about? I hear your heart throb faster every time I tell you I'll hold you.
Oh shut up. It's the drugs I tell you.
The drugs don't work anymore.

I don't know who I am when I'm with you.
I sing songs the words to which I don't know.
Across the room, he glanced at the champagne sari and smiled. Hello, Cinderella.
She screamed for hours at how perfect my life is.
"Nothing gets her down, she is intense and busy and MUN-ing, sometimes I wish I was more like that."
After I clam up, he asked me if we were still good.
Autumn leaves lay plastered on the red margins of the road.
Later, the trees were bare threads.
From tiny perfume bottles, I get the scent of my wrist.
On starless nights and fairy lights, I have wished for you.
A tired balcony, a chaotic melody.
Paint me a monster. Paint me a goddess. Draw me with nothing.
When you talk of barriers, you somehow get it right.
We are destined to doom each other.
As I blow smoke at you
Wish on red clover leaves for the life you don't have
The lights across your window
The window into another life;

Will I ever be able to reach you?
It's not that hard.

Dance with me tonight.

Friday, February 26, 2010

It's not love if it isn't dysfunctional.

She used to hide in his black shawl when the universe blinked as one upon her.

Every morning I woke up, consumed by the agitation of your thoughts. What does make you present everywhere that a slow tenderness traces in my blood? Come to me with the first raw of dawn, because I survive in you.

I'm watching you, as you sleep.

He touched her neck as she cried for the world. Consumed by rage at how easily she got hurt, at her, at the rest of her world. Rage was a physical expression until it was a white out and then even the drugs didn't seem to work.

I miss Rose and Pistachio body butter and the smell of freshly pressed laundry. And sometimes you.

He read her letters over and over till the words became a part of him. He hated her for going away, for having dreams, ambitions while all he wanted to do was just lie there and play with her hair. Her hair.

Remember that day you asked me if you could comb my hair? That was the day I fell in love with you.

Ownership, complete possession of her. Nothing short of that would please him. Sometimes he wanted to scream at her and break her up into pieces and break those pieces into more pieces and then put them back together to show he was the only one would do that. He wanted to take her away and hide her so that no other living, breathing being ever saw her again. With an overwhelmingly violent force, she was his. His. His. And in his head, nothing could ever change that.

I have stepped out of myself, and been walking alone beneath the enormous evening sky. I think there were tears in the car I heard pass. So much of this evening music has wounded me enough. I want to carve the world around you, the one I have imagined. I'm trying to figure out, what is it in you, that makes me such a mad wanderer of this city?

Remember the first time that we danced? The way I hated to be controlled, was unwilling to be led.

In a room full of people, on the rosewood floor, he grasped her hand in a tight clutch and held her closer than would ever be appropriate. They were both angry and controlling. They were crudely similar inspite of aeons of differences that set them apart, made them fall irrevocably in a careless, possessed love.

The guy is meant to lead.
You're not leading me.
Watch me.
She smiled.
Tighter. Closer. Till she could not breathe.
Take a dip, fall backwards, let me catch you. But she was so stiff. So unwilling to let go.
Trust me.
He smiled into her eyes.
She did.
Dancing is just so sexy.

People I don't know come and ask me to never get my hair cut. It rains here everyday like it has never rained before. That day, there was a long black dress with bronze jewels wrapped around the neck. Men, they flocked. Asked for a dance. Got turned down, came back. For a moment under the chandelier, I waited for you.

He hated her freedoms. How she was always floating.

And he hated how other men in other parts of the world looked at her and held her and how with a superior, dismissive smile, she'd give them another dance.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

The lies we live.

Sometimes, I do not understand what scares you and why
You hide. You come back wanting more, to know everything,
And coil back and suddenly disappear. I want to know
Everything, the little things, the detail in archaeological remains,
The number of linen bandages Nesyamun wore
The number of times his heart stopped before it was placed in a jar
The black decay of his skin, the ancient paint on his coffins
And what trace they leave on you,
The bits of you in them,
The trace in glass cases you keep it all in,
The cornithian order that surrounds
An empire guarded since eternity.
I want to know.
In fireworks that set the world ablaze,
In people who hold hands, walk by grey mists, statues of men long dead,
Seventeen stars, memories of three-forty and seventeen,
Star-shaped bits of you, I want to know,
And every time I come back I tell myself
This time it'll be slow, this time it'll be right,
It's never slow, it's always right.
It's just the way we balance, it's the way we survive:
You disappear.
I run away.