how love is August 3, 2008

^{He wrote–}

You can’t describe it. It’s like trying to explain how chocolate tastes to a dog (“Well, Lucky, you’re not supposed to eat chocolate but let me tell you, it’s like the best poop smell you could ever cram your nose onto mixed with a raw steak and a really gnarly bone. Or no, let me see, it’s like a really meaty bone dripping with fresh blood and bacon bits sprinkled on it, strapped to the back of a helpless cat, Or no, it’s like…aw, nevermind.”).

August 3, 2008

i needed to rise above the word fuck and fucker, i needed to not want to punch the face of all in my way, i needed to not be around pleasantries until i was certain i wouldn’t snap. or cry in a ball on the ground. as punk as that sounds, it isn’t cool. i really don’t like that tantrumic self image.

 

August 3, 2008

Staggering blurry sentences

Tossed like green salad

Coated with a dressing of blood and cum-mud

Hard to understand in my head but simply put

My heart knows awful things are happening

Traps trapping- snapping decisions bones and cords

A lump forms in my throat and I know.

This is not a happy ending unless the end is the happiness itself.

 

endless August 3, 2008

^{The smell of the washed pillow case smothers her. She rinsed it in Lavendar and rose because she has antiquated ideas. He left her two days ago and she was stunned most of that day. Then she began washing; walls, lamps, sheets and towels, drawers were freshly lined, the porch was swept. Every window was clear and the world was outside. It was hers as it always was, just now it was for her alone.}

^{the bed was empty except herself and the phone. Clean sheets on her bare skin made her believe he missed touching her. He would touch himself without her. She clutches the pillow as you would spoon a lover and almost cries but insists on getting to her dreams before the pain can. She ignores the repetitive chant in her head, ring- phone- ring. It is hard to fall asleep without the goodnight.}

She tosses over twenty times before looking directly into the phone as she had into his eyes that day. It is as responsive as he was and she begins to boil. She reaches over to the back of it and pulls the plug. Off. Dead. Unavailable. even if he wanted to, she is not answering him now. There is a certain disconnection.

Still, she takes the silenced receiver end and lies it on her head as if listening to him tell her good night. She snuggles in and finally falls asleep

.