the space between us
August 9, 2012
I meet Truth with a cold bottle of rose and pour myself a glass and drink it fast like it’s water from an oasis because… it is. I pour myself a second glass and drink it less fast but not at all slow and still I feel nothing or, rather, I don’t feel nothing yet. I am waiting for the click, the click of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and I’m holdinn on Brick, but it’s just no use.
I slide down down down I slide and I like the way it feels because I feel nothing and nothing is my everything yes. Because that’s a lie. I know the Truth in a way that I haven’t ever let myself be honest. I’m looking at my phone and I’m walking down the street and the flagstones are wide and dry and the air is damp and sweet. And I’m saying, I’m saying I already knew I was lying and that I was never swept away because there was no one sweeping up nothing except me—
How strange this pain that’s in my heart for it is soft and warm and vibrating quietly as it fades with each word that I type. It is a pain of pleasure and the pleasure of pain and it is my First Love, and it will always be and it is not at all sane.
Hayy. Wet eyes that are dry and a smile that slides back into the ether and what is seeking me I can never know. How strange to imagine being sought as though such a desire could be manifest by anyone else.
And yet, the space between us is. Is. It’s pieces of the puzzle and I don’t know what to do because I want to Do rather than to Be because being confuses with its darkness and mysteries. Inspiration is a mystery and for me mystery is most enthralling with possibility. No boundaries. Nothing but my dreams to live or simply to dream because…
It is all within me and I look without because I love that pain in my heart like I hate myself. And I could know this without ever knowing a thing and I only feel what is real only what is real isn’t Truth, it is just me being…