the shell game
October 13, 2012
…and when I am dead I will miss these shoulders that shake and shiver in the cold and the gooseflesh that prickles like a porcupine sans spires and quills, and I will miss this hair, this madness that is manifest in the most conspicuous manner, this wild, unruly mess that cannot be tamed by anyone except myself.
I will miss everything I hate about myself, the way I love to loathe my flaws, all the teeny tiny things I never tell anyone else, and all the big things I think no one else can see, all my elephants, the herd that follows me. I will miss the pain I exact upon my flesh, the tortures and torments of skin torn apart and blood bleeding fresh and the pleasure of destruction, the oblivion I hold in the palm of my hand and squeeze like a crutch.
The oblivion of a cloud of black smoke that I suck and suck and take all the way in, deep deep down way in to my lungs black as the sticky resin inside the bong that once was clear and now is not. I will miss the way I dance down the street swearing I am her and she is me and we are the same even if we live in different bodies, at different times, in different places. Even if she is her and not is me but I am and forever I remain and always shall I be sober or drunk but never stoned because then I am way too self conscious to handle the stares and they stare how they stare but never like they do in Rome.
I will miss the pleasure of losing myself deep inside my body, when the music is on and the records are spinning and is that Loleatta Holloway? Am I dreaming of him and he dreaming of me, no. I know. I awake with the words in my head and I know he is dreaming of she and that makes it so easy, so very easy. I will miss the disco ball spinning light across the ceiling around the walls across the floor and me, swimming through the glitter and the gold but I go nowhere and I get dizzy when I spin once twice three times. I will miss the feeling I have when I swish my hips and I twist and roll and twirl and swirl and suddenly, ohh so suddenly, I do not exist.
I will miss the way I love to lose myself inside emotion and experience, the way I become the very thing itself and Sara is not and never was anything except a hollow vessel, a shell, a shell game hiding the prize only there’s no prize, there is just me. I am light, the sun, a star shining bright, the way I become a supernova all black hole so big I explode into total annihilation of everything in my world. And I
will miss the extremes, the highs of rage and sorrow and joy and the pain always the pain and the sound of laughter in my ears and the smile on your face and the taste touch and smell of your flesh and your being and your wavelength. Your frequency that I feel from so far away is you in me as it has always been and finally I want for nothing of you and need even less because you as you is all that I love and all that I love is mine to give.