to know fear is to have never tasted it, that bitter acrid taste of rotting apples mixed with strong perfume. there is no knowing, only inhalation and dizziness before the lights go on. then, fear subsides.
the aftertaste remains. cologne is rotting. rotting all the same.
and swallowing the cider bile i stop. and start. i stop and start. and i remember that this was rhythm beaten out for me and Y. aeons ago, i would have told him this was our rhythm, that it was made for us. really, the rhythm is mine alone.
it is the heartbeat of a rabbit caught running in circles, breaking out of a different hole every time. only i have no space of time and who knows if i’m late?
there is no knowing here, only white roses being painted red. but i need no paint, truth always comes out in the end.
and this fear reigns over love. it transcends the borders of us and reproduces in our creations. why is that, will you tell me?
it must be us, the charcoal darkening the paper.
it must be orange juice spilt on a linen cloth. or coffee. coffee on those tiles.
still, it’s so nice to be able taste fear once in a million words, wouldn’t you say?
Posted in chapters of my life
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talk me of happiness,
of women i have been,
of anything that makes your heart pound
a hundred miles an hour /
and breathe me a life
i’ve given you for free
so i inhale the oxygen i’ve stolen from myself /
to fire my synapses
in this elusive chain reaction /
and i have been lost
all my life /
in all the things you see,
in the frozen whiteness all around me /
so slash my neck
and paint me black /
so hold me tight
and bring me white /
Posted in excerpts
Tagged all, and, anything, around, been, black, breathe, bring, chain, elusive, fire, free, from, frozen, given, happiness, have, heart, hold, hour, hundred, i've, in, inhale, life, lost, makes, me, miles, my, myself, neck, of, oxygen, paint, poem, poems, poetry, pound, reaction, roses, see, slash, stole, synapses, talk, that, things, this, tight, white, whiteness, women, you, your