In Title, only
What can I write here that will satisfy the long dead lurch that somehow still exists within me?
This being who once howled at the moon behind my eyes
and sank its fangs deeper and deeper into my thoughts
forcing them to bleed truth
and I would lap every drop, parched for anything resembling water.
But with time, it has crumbled
I could have reached down my hand into the vague depths and come up soaked in blood
and smeared any of it on this canvas and called it
in title only, of course.
Again, once more infront of me. The woman whose plainness was so astounding that it surpassed any definition.
It is odd, to me, that something can both perfectly define a word and so equally perfectly show the opposite of it.
She is plain. Plain in face, body, and I can only imagine soul. She says so little, looks at so few things, it is next to impossible to divine what she must be thinking. Plain in thought I surmise.
A song plays in the background, faintly, as it is on low volume. She has no reaction at all to it.
I see her face stare effortlessly at the middle distance. I am consumed with concern that she may be truly, wholly and truly, a more full person with her plainness than I can ever be with my errant ups and down.
Plain, as it were, to be plain, is to be nondescript. But in that way that she is, the exceedingly non-descript nature she has is so specific, that it baffles the ability to categorize.
Let me try and put it another way. She is so plain that she is no longer plain.
How is that possible?
And there she goes again. Leaving the lobby and boarding a vehicle to the airport. I never expected to see her again, which I did. Maybe I will again. And maybe, just maybe, by then I might be able to discern what it is that makes her so inexplicable to me.
Ok, Ok, Ok, Ok, Ok.
Why is that light so bright?
It's the sun, you prick.
I know, but why is it so bright?
Again, it is the sun. So...you know...bright.
I really dont need you AND the pounding at the same time.
Then dont think stupid thoughts.
Yes, that is sand. You are laying on your face in sand.
Sand really sucks.
I want to turn it all to glass.
Then you'd be face down on glass. Your head would probably break it. How would that be better?
Fine. Then turn it into cotton so I could sleep.
Where the hell am I?
On the Sand.
I hate you. Oh gahhhd my head. How much did I drink last night?
More than some, less than others.
Why do you interjet if you have nothing of value to say?
I hear Spanish.
Yes I do. But I can't see. My eyes wont open. Eyes! Open!
Oh yes, they respond notoriouly well to vocal stimulous.
You aren't helping.
You already said that. Several times.
Wait...where are my pants?
I like that ocean breeze on the glutes. Quite relaxing.
I really need to stop doing this.
Where's the fun in that?
Ok, so I'm laying here, naked, on a beach, in Mexico, hungover, having a conversation with MYSELF, OUT LOUD, WITH SAND IN MY CRACK!
Yeah, a typical Tuesday. What's your point?
My life rocks.
#Challenge of the Month VII: May
Hollwed by the way you never look at me
your eyes that always seem to blink
at the moment I am near
I seek the things I am never meant to have
but in the absense of my wants
I often find something that will merely pass
It seems that I am stuck
between never having what I want
and living with what I know will never be good enough
The failure creeps in
My grasp here weakens
Take me to the heathen
I want nothing
And it grows by the day
See my future slip away
And in the absense...
I crawl to the edge
But the darkness starts to drown
The air I try to breathe
Suffocates without a sound
And all the while I sit and smile
With these eyes set alight
You see my carcass wave goodbye
But it never joined the fight.
To you, my love
On this, our wedding night, I am recalled. My dear, my wife, my love of my life. I will always remember the first time that I saw you, and how overcome I truly was with desire to hold this hand. How overcome I was with your beauty and poise and soul.
And I longed for this moment, this feeling, this promise to you. Protection and support, to shield you from pain. From the second I beheld you, I knew it was you.
To see my potential, as a man, as a lover, and a member of this world, all I needed was you. This hand. I knew you would complete me and lead me down the path of self actualization and belief in the good of people. As I now give my all to this life that you allowed me to see.
As I watch you sleep, as I have before, my heart is overjoyed and proud. So peaceful, so trusting, so serene. I knew the moonlight could never shine so beautiful on another item in this world, as it does on you. So pure and refined and majestic.
I hold your hand, and as I do, I am reminded of our first embrace, how nervous I was, how our hearts raced, our first grasp and tense, our hearts were in sync and racing and the blood was hot and fast and pure. Then all at once, the swell was released and we both fell limp into each other, as true lovers do. Your silent tears of joy, my silent fears fluttered away. Complete trust and embrace. I never knew how that was supposed to feel, other than how right it did. And nothing will ever compare.
And when I slid that ring on you finger, the one I hold in mine, I was so overcome that hot tears became my love as they fell for you over and over and again. I knew the deed was done, and we were each others, I yours and you, mine, forever. All that I’ve ever wanted.
And to think of the guys that could have had you, and how you’re with me. I don’t know how I got so lucky. But, you called to me, and I answered on my steed in my armor, and ready to save you from the tower guarded by that dragon. I am a knight, and you my damsel.
Now, in this hand, I place this note. So that forever knows how true my love is. On this the anniversary of our meeting, exactly one week ago. I will keep you safe.
And no matter how much dirt cascades over your tomb, you will always have this note to be a reminder of my love for you. Killing you was my noble sacrifice. This is how I will keep you safe. This is how I will give you life. My sweetest love, my Porcelain Wife.
How often have I been so right that I was blind to the fact that I was equally and opposingly wrong?
Am I the main character of my story, flawless and ever growing?
Or am I nothing more than another flawed and backwards spec that doesnt matter to any significant gathering of other specs?