21/25

She noticed the skull laying on the sand. Some displaced animal had been brutally torn apart by twin bullets, its cerebral cortex desiring escape in all directions, though still half trapped under bloody flesh and fur. With Beethoven flowing in circles against her eardrums and bruises covering her exposed arms, the sun harshly continued to cook her skin. She stared out into the water, contemplating a sea-burial and extending her long legs over the nearby rock. With soothing linen hiding torn muscles and time floating into the sky, she became an expert witness of the life and death surrounding her.

We rode our bikes under the umbrella trees until our legs begged beautifully to rest. My hair blew out behind me and wrestled with the dry air as I watched his hat float away and roll lazily along the dusty trail. We rested our dirty wheels against the aging bark, tangled our fingers together in an awkwardly comfortable embrace and began to walk toward the shed. It smelled like photosynthesis and age as he bent over to pluck three daisies from the  long grass and slowly braided them through my tangled hair, inexperience shooting out of his hands. It tickled and everything was okay.

bukowski

“Human relationships were strange. I mean you were with one person for a while, eating and sleeping and living with them, loving them, talking to them, going places together and then it stopped. Then there was a short period when you weren’t with anybody, then another woman arrived, and you ate with her and you fucked her, and it all seemed so normal, as if you had been waiting just for her and she had been waiting for you. I never felt right being alone; sometimes it felt good but it never felt right.”

abusing of the rib

I know she’s been put through hell , I can feel it; and I know she’s touched heaven as well, trying to steal it; it came on, it taught her a song, it strung her along, and it caught her when the guard was gone, now to the break-of-dawn she’s wants to feel that fix

long term

I got up and rubbed my red eye into a swollen pit of clarity. It was 4am and I tiptoed downstairs and quietly flew out the side door. She was waiting for me across the street, eyes glowing, shy smile and all. I carelessly crossed the street and wrapped my arms around her small frame, breathing in a soft floral scent that glazed my eyes over. We stood there taking each other in, eyes closed, imagining, dreaming, full of love and exciting hope. This would be the final time we’d see each other. It ached; then I realized I’d been smiling for hours.

When it’s cold out, we seem to most need people. Bodies to cling to, hands to clutch, mouths and necks to kiss. The summer brings a sense of aimlessness, wandering around in the sunshine, I don’t care if I’m alone behavior. There is nothing that I want more than to fly across the state and temporarily into your life but mountains are higher than ever, rivers deep, emotions completely unavailable in these moments. I am so in love with the idea of being perpetually distant that I don’t even know who I am anymore as I drift along the broken earth in this stupid alone-but-not-lonely daze of mine. There is a sense of painful comfort in this, like when he puts his hand around my throat.