Just for a quick update, I have changed my url. However, I have decided that everything else should remain.

I FEEL FUCKING AWESOME NOW. ‘CUZ WHY?
I’M NOT SAYING… HOWSOEVERRRRRRR!
Yay yay nay nays, keep it going.
HAHAHA. Fuck you, duffers!

However did somebody tout the teats of my udder and pass ‘em off to another to suckle and let it pass away just like that? How so? I never understood. I sought no one but myself why this was. No one could possibly give me a proper answer, could one?

A many of a few weeks before now, I saw myself out of my own self. A man might be two men. Like a thing/somebody/devil/fairy who wishes to be a negative adjective. Not. There’s nothing right or wrong in all the world. Yes no? I never once betrayed my heart. I always follow closely. Where I am today could very much be accounted for. Yes, many times. I felt sure. In layman’s terms, my heart became a captive in a locked room. Translated, that means, I cannot part with you. Translated, that means, I am you. Translated, that means, what’s inside me is impossible to end until it ends itself, that is, an undying love.

Haha yay stupid. Acknowledged anyhow.

So truly would I smother you.

I have blushed, broken it many times.

I find pieces of myself everywhere, and I cut myself handling them. I am glass lady, but there is no light in me that can shine across anywhere. I shall lead no one home, save no lives, not even my own. And now, feeling or not able to is no longer a means anymore.

When you and I came away, I was heavier and softer than I thought, and I knew you were made of water, just like me. And I knew another puddle of it would claim you back again – your heart was never mine to claim. Neat. You are doing well. Not too bad. At least you are making yourself at home because I love you ? Well I am easy; you can find me everywhere; I am lying all over the place at different times of the day – reflections in different dimensions. Sometimes I find myself on you too. As for me, there’s nothing about at home I look for. So don’t try looking up for me. Not even.

Or otherwise. Keep safe.

]]> http://thirteenthmonologue.wordpress.com/2008/06/28/so-this-is-it/feed/ 0 bumpylines http://thirteenthmonologue.wordpress.com/2008/06/28/hi-parker-im-starlight/ http://thirteenthmonologue.wordpress.com/2008/06/28/hi-parker-im-starlight/#comments Fri, 27 Jun 2008 16:35:13 +0000 Kyl http://thirteenthmonologue.wordpress.com/?p=1227 ]]>

This is a love story.

Separation is safer than conjunction. That’s as good a way as refusing life, too. However.

This is not a love story, but love is in it. That is, love is just outside it, looking for a way to break in.

I’d be honest. I fancied I have never been away and that our adventures and troubles were a dream. Already our memories are fading, returning back to the sea and my pulse is ebbing with yours. I can hear your heartbeat. I have always loved to feel you. You, as strong as the sea tide. I, as weak as your broken arm. My love. My life. Constant in nothing but wenching, lying and escaping. My chest tightens, like a tightrope walker who likes a good fight himself and to do a cover-up for himself, he has to remain where he is but the line he walks on is a line too insignificant to acknowledge.

I cannot part with you. I am you.

Tell me, how do I not love you so?

The stars can take you anywhere.

If I could put my hand inside time and turn it back, I’d not have sought a skilful man to poultice my heart. Now I wear your bones around my neck, the ones that would save me from pain of every kind and steal me from reality. From time to time, I’d look down deep into my heart and I’d find you here. I’m sick of having you in sights. I’m too tired to sleep. My head full of things that cannot be destroyed. I am angry now. You are depressing me the way you would a game machine. I am dousing and drugging you out. I’d tout your slave’s teats. I’d tear you. I’d eat you up and finally soak you in formaldehyde until I realize I no longer need you in my life. By default, you are the closest and you resemble me the least yet you are the most vicious. Despite my handicaps, I cut something of a fine figure – a quiet affair with no real feeling. But myself.

P.S. Mom and Dad, I love you. Germaine, I love you too.

I grew to hate what had been only a joke.

I never ceased poring upon the means to bring to pass my pain, to douse good and hard, and came that length with my grief at last, as to go without what I could no long take account. The only means I go about is the only means I do; to staunch the bleeding, to ward off any invasions that is about to happen. Invasions, truces, understanding, adultery, infidelity, trends, bureaucracies, memories, sciences. Not. Human chemistry, stories and strangers and art and deceits and true love and more grief and more room for more separation and less conjunction for more rest.

Sweet.

I can bypass it but science can’t. I say I give it to you. But I never do. I’d tell you a different story, a story I know of that you haven’t. And maybe, just maybe, you might think of it as romantic a prehistoric love as a fossil, too.

Little by little, the night is winning.

We lie apart: a part of our differences lie a quarter of our dreams. 90° of separation. A part, a whole again unless a deviation from the norm discovered. There’s no second chance. Fate is not faith. Love is hatred. Autobiography tells tales.(when it is Man, really) Astrology is evidently not arbitrary like the grouping of stars in constellations – whatever they say about God and thinkers. I a dollop. You a fly. I nourished you as a hill of dung nourishes a fly, and when you had your fill you left me. The sea and gulls, lights and dusts, art and lies, Adam and Eve. A part of you in another part of me, that is, an albumen and a yolk, cannot be separated. They can, but they’d better not. My heart is always static, sometimes erratic -

only I drift from time to time.

He’s gone away, so is she.

I inserted new items into my room just to distract myself this afternoon. They are mere makeweights but helpful enough. Scented candles to calm me down, to put me back to where I was. Fluorescent lights to bring me there; to bring it back. A ‘black cat’ cushion which looks like a coin: head/tail for me to pull, cuddle and step on. I shifted my bed so that it was no longer facing the window. Then I moved my study table which was as good a counter as useless since already I have difficulty sitting on a chair to write, read or draw. I vacuumed-cleaned my room and you have no idea how hard I was on Moye that it has to suck so much dirt from where I lie. I assembled this floor-standing lamp and I can’t exactly remember how I finally got it right before dad could even set it aright for me. My room now smells of strawberry, jasmine, goat’s milk(my body foam) and dove. The sweet smell is akin to the man who’s gone away, who could step in to make good the deficit.

I’m off to watch the truth about jane and sam now.

And so black noir fucked me up.

I had to struggle, to fight; that is, to loosen you at the very end. Then I finally tore – was torn, now asunder. The body’s opening that accepts another so completely, the completion of creation. Noir sucked it as it would a thumb, a nipple, a prick and I was trying to make a sound in my throat but I held it for too long and so I broke too. Very often or so I thought, I’d imagined noir ripped open, and wondered who had done it and why. Then my fingertips running along its lines, lightly as I could, trying to read the smooth keloid tissue like Braille, as if noir would give up its secret to my skin. As if. Then I watched how noir erected. Into myself. I became a stranger in my own life.

Black noir is my middle name – I am the fucker.
I’d ask noir why. I’d not give up unless it turns inert.

‘What is in between sunset and sunrise?’

There is nothing,
only a missing word between the two – the word ’sunder’:
to tell us,
they are apart from each other, for ever.
But why do I see a full-arc rainbow
drawing them close together,
and not so much about the separation?

Are they like you and I too?

∞

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