Dancing

I write these words to you,

 

river of foaming dreams.

 

Your mouth is a poison of bitter taste,

 

your blood the chilling song I hear.

 

In this room of jazz

 

crippled vintage trees,

 

I am a patient rock

 

dancing on your skin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Magnetic Fields - Dancing in Your Eyes

Lamming 1

Let me begin, formally if I may, for we did not begin, properly. We only rustled, witnessed lips and leaves, detach from each arm.

In a notebook, of dotted women, in dire need, of connection and form, my untrained hand, copied, your words, for safe-keeping. My selfish strategem, for remembering, this, but your soul, it came, in creeping waves.

So let me, begin endlessly, this search for tide, rather ground. My darling little mortar, a pounding goddess, my dear, locket of heavy heart.

The eye of the sky, is watching, elephants mourn, the deaths, we share, yet we blame, the trunks of trees, pushing, from each seed.

The secrets, we threw, in casual waves, were collated, by a storm, in, calculating, little squares, a graph, a line understood.

We, have no umbrella, to claim.

If I want to, I would, put a comma, to kill, ev,e,ry, fucking, pe,ri,od.

I worship--

My story usually goes like this, every single thing that she touches, physically or in essence, will be marked. So yes, I am owned upon first handshake. If she gets me a glass of water, and I drink from that glass, I am owned from the insides. Imagine if it's a 3-second embrace.

There's something completely overwhelming about the way I like a person.

Let me put it this way. If I come to a decision that I like you, you can pick your nose in front of me and I would still like you. You may annoy me down to my last patient gene and I will still like you. I try to pretend, or at least would like to believe that I pull it off, that when I decide that I like a person, I refer to a you-ness that perhaps only I can grasp. No, I don't turn people into a concept. I take the person I like first as a name, then as a concept, til I feel her as a beating muscle, and I reconcile word and flesh. I bridge with her resonating sound, wrap my thoughts with her warmth, fog my mind with her breath, put none to waste, til her last falling hair--I commit to everything. Come as you are, says that song. If I decide that I like you, I'd like you in everything that you are and are not.

It's fascinating how almost always, people who seek my acceptance are those who I'd accept (most likely, have already accepted) in every way possible. There's something completely overwhelming about the way I like a person. It's scary, and almost always, it's because I get too scared myself. So there are words, and there are songs, and there are torn pages, and endless cursors blinking through the midnight's plight. 

From Tumblr

All the cool songs and hard-to-spell words, they're yours. 

This is why we broke up 3

I wanted to preserve the loud thumping within my chest. It was a drumming rhythm that defined how I walked this earth--march right left right. I know you've heard it once, when you rested your head on my breast. I saw you smile, you closed your eyes, "I can feel your heart," feel not hear, you even clarified. And that, my darling beloved, anchored me on the premise of wanting so surely. Everything that spins, is you, so I spin to the beat of lunacy.

I wanted to be a part of something big, explosive even, and that scared you. You said something about me being destructive and careless and more words you can't afford. How much are you willing to risk to navigate around my mind, I can now just assume. We had points A to Z between arms, like a soldier's rifle waiting to be triggered. This urged me to listen to your tales of wastage while you reprimand me for the pressing wreckage. If only you allowed me to show you. I just wanted the cleanliness of our blast. Like a supernova--so frightening, but most often than not, for the best of us.

That blinding light that caused you to jerk a quick left against a street post--to save your leg or another life--those were the quick radical questions that pounced on me as I decided to go. I will never learn to drive, I made it clear, but you said I still should try. So there we were, with a crash piercing through the silence of not talking. I wanted to blame my lack of skill but you forced me to be everything else but me. No horns could have halted the pages from turning. We turned until there was none left to lift--not even each other.

As I press on the mold to imprint my thoughts on you, I become the word with dropped letters--forming different worlds darker than the tunnels of your heart. I just wanted to preserve the sparkling need to be loved by you and only you; then I met someone new. I met someone new. I met someone new.

I stopped wanting you.

We deny ourselves as much as we lose what we stand to gain.

This is why we broke up 2

Today is supposedly the end of the world. If by any chance, it would count for anything, I would like to write on this page, perhaps one last time, should the said Mayan prediction come true.

our soiled sheets carry
the scent of your legs
and my mind,
oh, how it wandered aimlessly

other than silence
we held on a beating
that troubled us,
over the moon and arched backs.

ostensive fingers delight
my confused pharynx
to turn purple butterflies
onyx and dry

I made a list you might feverishly fail to nullify. I used your words to build this towering lie.

This is why we broke up 1

Wolves howled from under my shirt
a declaration of the phases of your moon
I found myself lost between my skirt
awaiting a reckless slow burning doom.

I have ten other reasons written on my journal, but today, that shall do. I can't let you burn me out. You wanted, too much.