i think of you sometimes
and i feel that i truly do love you.
in that way you only see in elderly couples
and small town family business owners;
in simplicity and genuine bliss.
the pure enjoyment of one another's company.
i look at you and i feel like i could live in your arms.
i look at you and feel torn to shreds that you are incapable of loving me back.
i'd like you to run away with me.
to take an RV and pray to god it lasts the trip.
we could take turns driving, singling songs along the way.
load up on gas station food and put stars on the maps of each state.
we could swim topless in the great lakes and hike trails in Oregon.
scream into the void of the Grand Canyon and pitch a tent for the night.
watch the moon and stars as they appear and never seem to dim.
watch the sun rise slowly, painting a picture that seems to melt away by 9.
i could lay my head on your shoulder, you can play with my hair.
read me the stories you write and i'll draw you the pictures i see.
we'd be the perfect pair,
we don't ever have to return, ya know.
we can continue embarking on the journeys we wished we had known before.
say the word and it's done;
you're mine and i am yours.
tell me, does anyone feel the same way?
i feel love as intensely as i feel pain when i stick my hand atop a burning stove.
it, for just a moment, becomes everything that i am.
but why when i direct this love towards someone, i unknowingly long for it to strike a broken glass, not mirror.
the reciprocation of emotions disgusts me yet i can't fathom why.
i feel incapable of loving someone who in turn feels that way about me.
and just as intensely as i felt love and pain,
i feel emptiness festering it's way into my hollow bones.
a prison you can’t escape.
i dare you to leave this place.
c'mon, i dare you.
go far far far away from everything you know.
i know why you haven't done it yet;
you fear change.
you're terrified of who you'd become if you weren't you anymore.
if you went away, would you come back the same?
of course not.
but would you try?
would you even grasp at the the quickly receding rope that is your ego, everything you know about yourself, slipping into the darkness of your distantly cavernous memories?
you resilient soul, you'd let it fade away into absolute nothingness
because you don't even care about it anymore.
i think when it comes down to it, you don't fear change after all.
you fear yourself the most.
because no matter where you go,
no matter how much you change,
no matter how taught you pull that rope and shove it into the cavernous lair of your mind,
it's always there dangling above your head;
all you have is yourself.
your soul, your consciousness, and your cracking, thinning skin;
a prison you can't escape.
not who i seem.
i could label myself as everything i appear to be;
but that is to label a snap-dragon as a daisy.
i appear painfully average
with a generic face and top percentile intelligence at a middle percentile public school.
i have a few hobbies.
and that is all a daisy has to offer.
i don't go vocalizing my qualms with these inaccurate perceptions
because i don't like confrontation.
but i'm so much more than a daisy.
i want to time travel to the times of pre-pastoral civilizations,
because it is the calm before the storm that is the human race.
i want to smoke a lot of weed. because i'm more than government laws and skewed FDA reports and i'm definitely more than this body has to offer.
and i want to go far far far away from where i am now. sometimes i wish i would just man up, save some money, take a one way flight and never return. i don't think anyone would miss me too much and i don't think i'd miss myself if i change when i go away.
i'm a snap-dragon who's tired of living as a daisy.
the fact that i'm me is just...unmatchable luckiness. it sounds like an egotistical thing to remark but if you look at it scientifically, is resounding. there is an average of 37.2 trillion cells in the human body.
a truly incomprehensible amount of 'things' making up who each and every one of us are. but it gets so, so much smaller.
there are over 25,000 genes in the human genome. all these genes are the building blocks of you. your hair, skin, nails, eyes, mouth, stomach, internal organs, nervous system, brain functions, defining characteristics, it's all there in these microscopic strands of DNA being coded and processes by microscopic proteins and somehow it creates you. and although it gets that small, to the size where one altered gene could change your entire life (literally. one singular extra chromosome and you're barely the same person anymore,) we ignore the largest effect of our genetic makeup; we're human.
since our bodies use energy to do work, and we're basically individual outlets of energy and electromagnetic forces made of stars just like everything else in the universe, this gave you the slight opportunity to be anything else in the universe. somehow the energy that makes up your atoms and cells found it's way into the reproductive cells of your parents to develop you. imagine if it had transferred and manifested itself not into you but a new dwarf planet, another moon, a tidal wave, a lightening bolt, anything.
if we're all made up of energy, and energy has no limitations, we have the potential to someday be something other than humans.
how relieving is that? all these tiny tiny anatomical things about us made up of immense amounts of energy have come together to form our beautiful, chaotic nature of humanity, yet our limitations do not end at what we are now, they don't exist. if you're not happy with who you are, know there's a good chance your bodily energy will reincarnate as something totally badass oneday, and that's also you.
silence vs. chaos.
the sound of pouring wine washed away the perilous contemplations of my soul that evening. I held my glass of Mourvèdre in my left hand as i soberly walked to the fireplace and took a seat facing the flames. the chair creaked when i sat down, which was expected of antique things. i pulled the cigarette out of my pocket and stationed my ash tray and light upon small coffee table besides me. the fire was popping and crackling, drowning out every other noise while also making the room peacefully quiet. i lit my smoke and took a deep draw in, trying my damnedest to focus of each breath of smoke i trapped in my lungs, and the succeeding release of chemicals i exhales through my dry lips. i used to cough and hack at the first puff of smoke, but now i fear i'm accustomed to the damage. considering death will inevitably come steal each and every one of our last breaths, i'd rather spend my days drinking red wine and puffing on a fresh cigarette than swimming in those thoughts that drowned me like white rapids. my heart rate begun to lower as my mind experienced a numbing emptiness. the blood in my veins, now sickened with tar, slowed to a crawl. this feeling of complete misery yet peacefulness consumed me. i begun to fear that this is what death would feel like. that this state of mind numbing nothingness where you can't even hear the fire crackling or your lungs burning was how life was meant to feel; torturous. that happiness and love were illusory. as frightened as i am, compared to its chaotic polar, this vacancy felt refreshing. my eyelids fluttered emotionlessly, my lashes rested upon my skin as if they themselves fell asleep. i raised my glass to my lips and took one long sip of my Mourvèdre before tilting my feeble neck back and dozing off.
i have no idea low long i must have rested for, but it was enough for my cigarette to have burnt out and the fire to dim. i thoughtlessly raised my glass to my lips once more, and once i did my blood ran cold. the Mourvèdre was gone. not a single drop remained in my glass.
suddenly the fire began crackling again, but immensely louder despite the fire not growing in size. rather, it appeared to shrink even further, so small that i needed to strain my eyes to even see the sparks of golden sun searing divots into the worn logs. the noise became so intense and consuming i felt the pressure upon my ear drums. i flicked what was rest of my cigarette into the flames, and in a moment of confusion, i fumbled with my shaking hands and dropped my wine glass upon the wooden floor. the sound of shattering glass erupted and shook the house. i screamed. i screamed as loudly as possible and tucked my head into my hands, hoping and praying that it would alleviate the audial suffering i had succumbed to. the noises crescendoed until i heard three knocks at my door. the fire popping and glass shattering began to slow down, still swelling in my ears. however as the sounds of broken glass lessened, the mysterious knocking at the door increased.
first 3, then 5, then 11, repetitiously hanging with such ferocity i feared my entire door would collapse under the pressure. my breath sharpened as i stood up, balancing my weight on trembling knees. i waltzed down the hallway cautiously, a sense of fear washed over me more intensely than anything i've ever felt. indescribable and incomparable. the knocking became louder and louder until it seemed as if it was no longer knocks, but now a constant belting scream from some tortured being.
i was only an arms length from the door knob, but it felt like i was forcibly pressed against it. my hands trembled and shook so uncontrollable i feared i wouldn't muster the strength to grasp the door knob. i managed to wrap my fingers around it; it stung like ice. surprisingly, my mind was not racing, it was empty as could be. fear and anxiety had swept my control system, rendering my helpless to do anything but comply to the terrifying call of this screaming door. my ear drums felt as if they'd burst had i been made to suffer through this chaos any longer.
i turnt my wrist and peeled the door open from it's locked hinges. the chaos halted. i dropped to the floor, my feeble legs had finally snapped under my dead weight. i screamed myself, trying desperately to mimic the sound i had previously so painfully despised. the silence drowned my attempts. every inch of my body froze under the chilling weight of what was emptiness.
i would have tried to wage war in my mind to decipher which state was a greater threat to insanity, but i was too late; my mind was too vacant to fight. it was too vacant to do anything at all but rest.
do promises disappear rather than break?
tell me, how long do promises last?
are they meant to sit in stone,
permanent reminders of life and passion
like headstones on the foot of our beds.
or do they die along with the love they sprung from?
we haven't spoken in months.
you have a girlfriend and i have myself.
yet still, i sit here confused,
pondering the words you spoke to me,
the promise you made,
and wondering if that promise will ever come to fruition.
you told me if we each had 5 weeks to live,
we'd escape to iceland
and live on the water
and go ice hole fishing off the coast of greenland.
we'd have a house in Vík.
you'd finish that novel you'd been working on,
giving me paragraphs to illustrate as i sat at my easel by the window.
we'd listen to your favorite ska tracks and 50's records until we had each beat in sync with our hearts and our hearts would be in sync with each other.
my wit and your intellect would marry upon those chilly waters.
and we'd live our final weeks in blissful mediocrity,
as you said.
i still wonder if this is our future.
if this promise surpasses our quieted lips.
because now you've made me long for the day i have 5 weeks to live,
and i don't want that to be in vain.