(mythical beasts) // thoughts:fragments

mythical beasts

history, if you can call her that, is coming and going.
something like rain - which from time to time i look out my window and notice, other times not. other times, only when i step outside onto wet ground it occurs to me rain has come and gone, another thing that happened to me, that i lived through without even noticing.


___*___*___*

do you know you're doing that? she asks - the chiropractor. you clench your back muscles when you inhale. i'm lying on my belly, with my face in the baseball-mitt thing so she can't see what i'm thinking. you don't need to do that. your body is trying too hard, it thinks being alive is much harder work than it really is.


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i can't seem to sit still. a 3-week-long problem. i remember the unpleasant dreams, and wake up dry. i have no recollection of the other dreams - except i wake up sweaty. dear soul: i am happy you have found secret hiding places. one of us should have secrets. there are no bruises around my eyes so the handkerchief you blind me with when you ride me there must be silk. you are generous.


___*___*___*

poor broken boy she says. just remember, it's not you - not entirely. i know. i do. good. she wants to know what i'm thinking. nothing.
but that's a lie. i'm thinking about the first line of a poem i wrote 16 years ago: 'the toys in this store are broken, battered and bruised'. i don't remember the rest of the poem. i remember writing that line under a drawing of three toys in one of my notebooks.


___*___*___*

it's getting dark again.
on thursday, on the way home, i wrote lovelike letters in my head. when i got back you were still asleep in bed. i drew the curtain a little bit and sat at my desk and looked at my pen and thought about the words.
you grumbled and opened your eyes. heyy. heya. how was it? good. helpful. come here.

maybe it's easier to just live a life than to document it. it's hard enough the first time.