| Mood:- |
Happysadhappysadhappysad... |
|
I miss you.
I don't know what to do. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What do I do? Can I call you? Or you? Where you are, what you are, I just can't figure out. Notes rise like snow blown up above me, cold and strange and I can't decipher what anyone is saying, and I'm swimming in this inbetween, gulping it, living in it, like I used to swim in your veins, and I miss you. Gettin' caught up in this storm, it envelops my ankles, think I'll get lost in this, lost in the white. Send me away somewhere I don't have to decide, send me away in a block of ice. And then someday I'll thaw and be discovered like some precious stone mined from deep in the Earth. And I'll walk away like a prophet and swallow up the world. Eat everything, eat it all and be full.
But now, so empty. So eyeless. I used to watch them moving to and fro, I used to catch the delicate gestures, the elaborate mechanisms of communication, bodily mannerisms. I used to watch this all and sigh and write and smile from a corner. I used to take it in. And now I watch from the middle as the seas part from me, billowing waves stretching so far across the end of them is endless; and I am left empty. Lines and shapes blur, dim, pass away. I. Can't. See.
What is happening to me? What is happening?
Shuffle your feet, girl. Get back up. Throw off the blankets and walk. But I don't know if I can. The habit's back again. Quell it, quench it, but I don't want to run away, but I want to; and I'm so confused. Where do I put these hands? Where do I place my feet? So clumsy. Walking disaster. Walking mess. And at the end of this?
The bridge? The creek covered with ice, beckoning? My tiny hands, scribbling, pleading for some chance verse to save them? They're cold and bony and dry and covered with scratches. They reach for unnamed objects in the darkness, things that are gone, things that are broken and discarded.
But what is left? |
