Just The Feeling Of Ink Stains On Your Fingers.

my mind is like a goddamn river. not serene or calm or peaceful, but every thought rushing by too fast and gone before I can fully understand it. I, myself can barely remain afloat in these deep waters. so do you really want to break down my walls, the dams I've built over the years? will you drown in these rushed waters too? and if you manage to swim, would you bring me to my shores with you?

You’d think if time was drugged, futile seconds would wander till ether stilled hearts choking through echoing forever the roads we never walked remain trapped in the mirror house we find ourselves in, which is better, delirious visions against the never becoming futures? or bashing our heads fruitlessly against foreign reflections? screaming our voices hoarse, till the counted seconds come back home.

hold on babes, lemme just put on my rose-tinted glasses to excuse all that you do or say

And speaking the ancient tongue is like reaching out and having a chat with history itself, shadows and shimmers of unspoken words bound by time, now escaping through the curve of your lips.

Does he love the stars?

Maybe he'll love you like he loves the stars. Maybe he tells the stars about you like how he tells you about the stars. Maybe he'll remember every scar and freckle like he remembers the names of those supernovas thousands of light years away.

golden threads like spools of glazed time, rippling over skin reflected upon or emboldened in time? slivers of voices trapped in the warm rays touching and painting your hair, wisps of unwound paths waiting to be caught. so many red strings, fluttering like our erratic beating, yet I'm left weaving tapestries from bare scraps of discarded lint. furious stitching, from the timed ripples dying, words of a melody barely coaxed by red and blemished fingers. the same golden threads, now remain unspooled, what a mess, caged like a broken Wallace. soft goodbyes left unsaid, braids woven for ultimate indifference. what knot did we miss for the tapestry to burn and not shine? the yellow so dull like jaundiced eyes but the red so stark like first drawn blood.

Do you remember when I almost walked in front of a speeding car and you pulled me back so hard I laughed? later that night you called yourself my guardian angel, which was funny because for you I'd kneel and join my hands to The Something I've never really believed in. But I didn't tell you that, instead I told you about how I never really believed in Santa or prince charming because Santa had my dad's handwriting and my mom taught me that to love is an afterthought, only fulfilled in heaven.

so you don't believe in heaven?

No, but would you come for me when it's 3 in the morning and I'm pouring out all of the ink I have on paper, hoping it covers the blood that runs 'neath? Let me slice my hand on your halo, when I need to feel human again? Would you engulf me in your wings and let me tell you about how sometimes when I cross a road I reach for a hand that isn't there?

I'll find you in heaven just to prove you wrong.

But wouldn't you rather be stretching your arms above to the eternity I can prove, I will prove, for I am twistedly determined to prove you wrong, right next to me?

but how would you know it's me next to you?

I'd know, I'd know you, I'd always know you, your branches would be the one's above mine when the rays get too harsh.

"asshole" i try to call you with all the conviction i can muster. how dare you tell me about her? I hate you i repeat and i repeat it till i'm sick. will saying it enough make it true?

With only the irregular rush of cars playing notes in the dark air, I think of how I've lived a thousand lives before and no experience of mine will ever be unique. Yes, it must be a curse to never know enough, but isn't it a greater burden, how with every try, memory brushes out of reach and I'm born anew, scribbling different patterns over the same black slate, mere Sisyphus rolling the stone back up, but not quite, yet again. In another lifetime perhaps my fingers bled more amply over the long gone green, but I shall never know, shall I? Soon, I too will fade again, like the stars burnt into my blood and at the edge of dawn, I'll become yet another familiar turn in someone's long forgone hometown. The same lover, hopeful yet and despite the ghost heartaches from previous lives. familiar aches of circling and continuing about birth and rebirth, like the tissues after tissues used to wipe my tears, discarded and never thought of once again. The familiar homesick sounds of the city lull me to a serene embrace and I think, how only the brightest flash across the night sky is when the endless stars touch something achingly mortal.

And in the end, my darling solitude is always there to hold me, however cold his hugs are.