miércoles, diciembre 27, 2006

death by lethargy

only coffee keeps me going these days. endless reruns of old time favorites flicker in the background of newfound freedom and melancholy. the race against time, against ambitions and the ebb of possibilities- pull and push me towards the underbelly of my created reality. you once said, there was a sadness in my eyes. a sadness that overflows like tears do. and for that shallow simile, i still am amused by you. one year and several lifetime changes later, there are still things that are raw- misplaced details in an assortment of memories. such as, yes, melancholy in freedom. i can do whatever i want now. but i rather curl up and escape to sleep. strange how waking to the early evening glow feels like the beginning of a dream series, where you walk before me in warp speed there is only a haze of you. like my eyes are camera lenses several years behind. you smile when i tell you this- not really hearing me. and like always, you ask about the same thing a few days later. i hold back from moving at my usual speed. i am choosing to wait for you, even when it feels like this lethargy disgusts me so i want to leap out of my skin. choosing coffee to keep me going over the thrill of the chase of you. maybe then some of this could be real.

miércoles, diciembre 20, 2006

between the devil and the deep blue sea

pretty boy quite drunk apologizes. with his dark brown eyes he looks at me and asks if he can be forgiven for not forgetting my pink stringed bikini. he says he does not know how and will forever wonder if i had said yes that other drunken night, would it have been good. i wonder if it’s really worth his wait. he laughs when i say: i’m sure when i’m sixty, i’ll regret saying no to your body. “then are you sleeping with him?”, he nods towards dave by the bar. smiling, i take a sip of my beer. “i guess i’m the devil then,” he holds my hand for a moment and leans down to plant a kiss good night.

dave walks back to my side and links my arm with his. i lean my head on his chest, just below his chin. i know every night he finds it difficult to sleep. he still waits for her. and the aching in my heart stings as the evening grows deep.

pretty boy in the corner smiles. i’ve no answer for him.