disjoints of my mind... vii?
I press publish without thinking it through
space of the divide
we wake up and fall
in love a great gust
each part of the soul moved
between me and you
the greeks were right a fifth element
space of the divide
reaching through ether
Haha it’s been too much listening to stoned at the nail salon by lorde which has, incidentally, zero bearing on what I just gave to you to read, but I needed an excuse and that was it. Should I have been listening to mood ring by lorde instead? That’s what I’m listening to now, and it’s delectable. Somehow it feels so shallow, like sticking my head into soft dry sand that sticks itself to my hair long after I’ve showered three times upon coming home. I definitely don’t shower three times after coming home, but it feels luxurious in the same way, doesn’t it?
And both of these luxuries are nothing compared to the lie that pride allows you to justify, no I wasn’t thinking of you, and no I don’t know if I feel the same way at all. No I don’t want to sleep with you, and no I don’t miss the press of your body against my skin falling asleep.
What to trust and not to trust? In the darkness I press blindly and write about disconnected memories which create the effect of a conspiracy theory where half of the truth is there and there are, too, added memories that are real but in this pairing create a false narrative I can suck you into. When did we fall so far away from trust and communication?
Pride is dangerous. It has cost me the great loves of my life, like my father and you. Can you trust a word I say? Nothing is more distracting than the truth. Say the truth after a bunch of lies and nothing sounds the same anymore. If you want to remove truth from the world speak both lies and the truth. Create dreamworlds in which the only difference between it’s being true or not is whether or not you’re willing to say it.
But truth becomes what we would be willing to stake our lives on.
Lately I’ve been standing for very little with you. Maybe it was true, or maybe it wasn’t. Just a sliver I would stake my life on, the truth that I’ve been living in a dreamworld, and I would tell you full bodied that when I told E everything in order to purge my system of you, that night I had a dream where a demon queen tried to suck me into her life and rape me several times. I woke up five times back into the dream and she laughed at me because she knew that I was trapped there with her, in a world where my body had no bearing and all that mattered was whether I could believe truth without any reality.
I’ve had three of those demon dreams since I left New York, all of them after thinking about you too much. In one I thought that you helped me out of the bath. I could sense a figure at the end of the bathtub as I marveled the water tension with my cut fingers and swollen fingerswirls. I began crying and the being on the other end of the bathtub helped me out of the bath, helped me dry myself, and carried me to my room where it crossed the golden boundary I place before I sleep every night.
That night I met the first demon, demon of vanity and self-deprecation. Blood poured from its head from self-inflicted wounds it gave itself after hurting others. It hurt others because when it did, the creature grew more beautiful. And then it would destroy itself even more, because that, too, created more beauty, once the blood pouring from their over-brushed head and teeth cleared. They made a pile of all my favorite childhood stuffed animals for the bonfire they would light in my basement at a later time.
What could I even say to you honestly? Any real exposure is too exposed, and any lack of exposure is a lie because I am already over-exposed. Sun-bleached travertine with pools of water all around me, the sky cast in a pale green. Watch the sunset, there, behind that cloud I’d like to sit on to watch this dense ball of light cast our green world in a rosy hue. Let me dig my toes into the ground so my roots can build a mycelium network to reach you, without crossing the spirit world which threatens to suck me in at every point.
Oh what the hell. Let a slight breeze remind me of a happier time, a single starlight cool in gust of my heart. There was never a song for the dance of laughing through time with someone. Without any bearing in reality, with my feet no longer on sun bleached stone in a greenwashed sky, but in cloudy smoke with the red lantern blowing in the wind. I believe.