Tuesday, April 16, 2013

diary note / etude

nothing i want to say has words in it
but we're back here again anyway. the habit of things.
gravity. addiction.

i've promised myself i'll write , even if just to loosen up my jaw so i can form syllables again.
i'm familiar enough here to come in the backdoor and walk through the kitchen.
don't need a menu, i know what's eating who in here . Even if i've been away a while,
we pick up the tune where we left off:

tit for tat.
dreaming of skinny dipping, learning to smoke and dying proud. (that sums me up he says. 'funny'
i think, 'how easy he did that'.

all these distractions are such foreign smiles - the best kinds - women you don't know. all slender
ankle and mischievous glance. i haven't had a proper meal in weeks, i snack on distractions.
why wait for love when you can eat cake? he says, 'maybe you're right' i respond.

how are things with you she wants to know; 'oh mama, i'm low, if someone said unicorns weren't
real i'd almost believe it'.

tomorrow when i see you at work i'll glance at your fingers and imagine them in my mouth. the grapes of you delight me. maybe it's true you don't know anyone till you've tasted them naked.

all of which is to say: i've learnt more today by forgetting everything that came before. (& more zombie than man i come stumbling home at nearly 9 and when he asks me how work was i say 'morte me' ; the distinguished man's fml he responds and losing myself i laugh.

these pills aren't bad. how sweet i'll sleep.
how deep.
forgotten and lost in time's other kingdom ,
the hope only of hollow men and stuffed toys:

or, so thought the man.

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