hands on hands on hands

September 15, 2010

this feeling is pushing me, right through three floors down,

i can’t even fucking think through these windshield wipers are fucking shit.

i take a bible by the bottle and think before i blink. but i still want to feel your hands on my hands. on a sunday night in the dark, watching a shitty indie film. and laughing over grumbling bellies. and stale cigarettes on the floor

ash wherever you want because we haven’t been thinking about it for a half hour and look at all this, it’s a mess everywhere.

well, I ain’t a winner all the time, right?

it’s a different kind of feeling than i thought it would be.

what exactly is the point of life? in my world, there is no difference between being alive and having no life. who is to say that there is? the only way we know feeling is by relating it to non-feeling. which, in itself, is impossible. you cannot not feel, you are always alive, so how can you be so sure what it is to be not alive?

you can feel a stone, you can feel the cold. coldness, un-moving are both associated now with non-living. but i know a lot of cold and un-moving people. my only qualm with this is, do i have a life? hah. thinking about that makes me want to laugh.

I’d like to reach out and touch the things that i want. when i walk down the road, the air is hot and the sky is at dusk, the sun is holding my skin like a blanket. looking around, the trees and the grass seem to be going backwards while i am staying still. this moment is so similar to how we used to lay around and forget about everything. it’s crazy how much i remember everything you are. in a way, i believe that the feeling i have makes you as real as you need to be – for me. though you may not see me again, i can feel your influence in every dream i stop to think about. you’ve created something so amazing in my head, such a small time you were in my life and yet your influence branched out quickly and gripped like ivy growing up my legs. all of the pain and misery in life is nothing compared to the few minutes of pure imagery that plagues my brain when things are quiet.

i want to work out on the outside, i want to do pull-ups on monkey bars and i want to flip swings and play kickball like crazy. i want to sit outside in these summer nights and let the thousands of stars watch me enjoy a sinless smoke. perfection is held so close to me that i can’t help thinking about it.

if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s alright. as long as you are happy, i will be too.

(pictures unrelated)

longing

June 1, 2010

all of you.

a gentle touch on my side, the flutter of a hand spreading out and around sliding so softly downwards. it’s difficult to keep my eyes open, so they rise slowly and i see with my blurred view. the sky is blue, the clouds are white, the room is grey. the mask of sleep rests on my face, pressing on my head, and making me drowsy. perhaps this moment was like all the others for you, but this time, i stopped time. i left out the sound of the television behind me, and the hum of the air conditioner and the muffled sounds of people elsewhere in the house. in my head i said over and over, to remember this very moment and take one of those mental pictures, framed in glass. i had to struggle to hold onto this memory while i forgot countless others; it’s hard for me to remember much anymore. but it pulled through.

i can’t be sure, but i think i could feel my eyes start to warm up. you must have seen this, because your arms found each other and tightened behind the small of my back. i smiled into your shirt while my eyes filled up. even then, i could feel that this wouldn’t last nearly as long as i wished. it was then that i could almost feel it slip away, caught up in something i could never really know.  i let tears fall silently across my eyes, rolling over my nose in the most uncomfortable fashion. the unconscious part of me made itself known at that point; and i looked into a window which showed my blurry and dark future. and i remember turning away, rolling over on my other side so that you wouldn’t see what i saw.  it was black and it made me alarmed; but as quickly as it came, i shut my eyes completely and let myself return to you. this was my moment, and this was only mine. i knew then that it would never quite be ours, and none of this would ever come close to being yours. you had no idea at that time. you had no idea how you silently told me at this time what would become of us;

what we used to be, what we were, and what we would be – it all came together for me, in a rush of pictures and speechless anguish. it was horrifying and yet beautiful all at once.  it was and is, something so extremely difficult to comprehend and describe, even now.

it is longing.

all of you.