live it gently, with fire

10 cigarettes, 4 white russians, and nothing to eat. my stomach full, my heart empty. (we pushed and pulled like an ocean wave. don't leave, i plead. you return, then i recede) why? the questions we ask the universe begin and end with questions like this.

i always wish a little that i were made simpler, that i did not have to feel this weight of space and light and life exploding inside me during nights with only myself and the flickering of twenty three candles.

"it's about a boy and a girl, who spent their whole lives never being got, and after one look, get each other completely." an impossibility, i once scoffed. even if not, there is always the inevitable coming apart. atoms split, islands drift, we are no longer Pangea. blame thor and his thunder bolts for tearing us apart. i still had the blood in my eyes.

Last year: "When I used to think of you, my heart would fold in on itself, like an origami disaster. It crumpled into a melancholy ball. A failed attempt at making something beautiful, for you. I did not know then, that perfection wasn’t something you could tailor, that my love alone could be enough."

... you are supposed to say this then i am supposed to say this, and this is how things will be. everyone is content because it fits and makes sense and isn't it all written down already anyway? i throw these old scripts out the window, let the pages flutter over Mt. Juneau. they were made of recycled pain, cyclical actions, and you deserve more than tired lines and choreographed habits. i'm not afraid of what's behind the door. amidst the rain, i will turn my head sideways and look between raindrops to find you. surprise me, love.