Saturday, July 9, 2011
Everything is swirling, my limbs they ache so funny.
There's a woman who makes recurrent appearances like an apparition, in and out, out and. She stands with you and her white chador has bloodstains which are actually flowers. I can't see her face, or yours. An invisible chord binds the two of you, but I see it, the way people see dust particles suspended in sunlight.
I must have drawn a line that is not a trace of your contour.
There are antibiotics on the table and I'm anti them. Your heart beat is based on a golden section, the silence, the frequency, the muscles. Trust me.
I'm outside your realm, a voyeuristic menace from a window grounded in another dimension. Her face is full of young love, you speak inaudibly, and her virginal blush is elevated. It irks me terribly. She steps backwards near the stove, her emerald eyes, her pupils dilated with some unnamed emotion, my breath fogs the dirty window, my ear flattens against it.
"Kiss me", you demand with an ill-concealed smirk, "or I will burn your house."
She cries in fright, the village idiot, and you put your arm around her. She clings to you for protection.
I think there's a dog out there in the street. Or maybe it's a cat. There are so many dogs in this town, people have started acting like them too.
She sees me and there's so much anguish and hatred in her eyes. She says, maybe she screams, that you belong to her. When my eyes open, I fall out and over, suddenly the other woman, the recipient of unholy love, dirty, longing, longing so desperately.. but failing because I am not her and not able to replace her, the other woman on whose side of the glass it's always raining.
I'm not a dog, stupid.
If I'm blind, I'd know you from the texture of your skin. If there's a frequency that matches your laugh, I follow it.
Lights too bright, the sound of your laughter and her screams.
Every exit is an entry somewhere.