"Will you love me?" she said, looking scared, seeming now arrested beneath wide sheets, my
hands clasping fast, face turning with the day outside, confusion on the mind slowly gaining;
a slipping sort of mental fatality growing deep. Wheezy with the realization, garbled, mangling.
Falling fast beside the long fields.
For we pretend met then in Dallas beneath the hot sun, the tarmac waiting, calling so for
your breath bating the threat of a dark horse arriving, in that she subtly asked
"Was your trip good? Did you see all there was to do?" I not knowing what best to say
both of us now without clothes, her laying sideways as we always know time is slim.'
Yes the simple days would have passed thus in a haze, yes we would have lost ourselves, woulda
stayed the stout same caring yes I cared yes it matter(s)ed, yes its coming round rain again, yes its
falling fast now certainly its a strange tilt, the brightness grows, mortality holds
thick indeed as the bludgeon calls again, indeed its failure before the eyes fast a growing.
Feeling thin, feeling any which way then to turn.
To burn.
"Where do you want to go next?" I asked, flipping through the tube, the many brochures
lying thick round in a fan untouched from the day before, the digital clicking down
I think then we both were aware that we arrived on borrowed time, stranding continental divide
living the best between the stuffy sheets, the pieces of you and me - Mexico, I should thus say.
I content to watch her from any such cot through the long day, help her pack the undies
that both of us sometimes drop between the giggling, those tiny shards barely fabric
she enough to wind and love me, the simple ways we knew each other long, compatible in red
The Mississippi's that rage between us.
The day receding round, the lack of caring of all other things as we held
yes the fucking WE made, going insane, going down another hole together
yes the small parts simply mattering, yes that 3D Wolfenstein a calling, the ultimatum beginning
Yes I cared and love, and now I have so little time to say, to hold her. A little more time. Please
I now make up the clouds begin to form beneath the crystal shape of a weeping eye, your
days make up the passions I hold, and though simple they for me are the great, the escape.
Anywhere closer to your love, your frame.
Yet Dallas does not relent in heat yes the breweries called, yes
the art scene staggered uncontrollably yes the tempered winds blowing behind us now, yes
the very flat of the land is something that calls us outward, onwards - this is
what they call winter here, and sure you simple open pustule busting fell for my insanity yes
I tell her again and again the words that matter so. The shoes scuff. Witness marks hold us close
more honest than we ever knew ourselves. Yet we have to look! Gaze upon the Gorgon's maw, fall
into that fast love that maelstroms could not shake us, she, bleeding dearly, I this open wound
twisting open for a knife that has not been crafted for me to receive.
I forever will be in love with you yes I made these words, the scenery up instead.
So the flat day moves on, the winter sun hangs low, yet
"Will you hold me?" she asked again unto the breeze, her long
neck pushing close, my hands these bitter things crafted just to mend.
"Yes," I said. Forever and always, yes thus I meant, hopefully said latter part out loud.
Wanted to take away such pain, only adding such instead.
No comments:
Post a Comment