still, love, it would be much better, i am told.
i had a dream and it was bad.
the details were foggy enough, had they been sharp they would have cut me.
i floated away, which did not happen the first time. though i wish it did.
the fog of a memory that pressed tautly against my pride. the precipice into which i stared, stared back out with me into the light. always cautiously. always with the greatest regard for maintaining a sense of secrecy. omission… it is a powerful tool.
there are few people that know me even well enough to see through it.
i don’t want to see you anymore, not even in my dreams. i did not wish to remember this.
did you send it to me?
i read a fortune cookie today and it made me cry. the occasion of this happening to someone like me are obscenely small; i wish i could have proven that to someone, anyone, immediately after it had happened, but there was no one around to defend myself against.
it was a natural reaction. i did not know how to tell myself that it may have been awkward, but quite alright. i’m okay now i think. i think today i was more okay than i had been in a while, but my projected future remains.
i wish to be alone. far away. where nobody knows who i am or what i have done. definitely away from you.
_________________________
how to:
-take a reasonable amount of acid.
-smoke a fattie! (maybe listen to some Zombies or Mars Volta or, whatever, whilst)
-walk until you cannot walk anymore.
-walk more than this.
-climb the tallest tree you can find. (which means you’ll have to walk out of chicago…)
-observe the people. pay particular attention to the lonely ones. they are usually the best.
-talk to somebody. make them feel good. maybe you’ll feel good, too. just maybe.
and maybe if they thought there were people out there looking for someone just like them, for no purpose at all other than to talk to someone who may just understand you a little better than you’d expect them to. maybe you won’t feel so alone and maybe neither will they. maybe they smoke pot! maybe they’d like to extend their lunch break and tell their boss to shove it, just this once, and hang out with a complete stranger who feels more like a very dear friend. maybe you’ll never see them again and you both know that, but that’s okay. maybe the weather is turning just like so, to make this all possible.
maybe i need to move to a warmer climate so i can enact my philosophical shitstorms without getting hypothermia.
or maybe this time i’ll meet a friend i can’t bear to be away from. how i wish i could meet someone who cannot bear to be away from me.
maybe i’ll meet someone who can’t use their words correctly, either. someone who is just as incapable of making speech with people outside the realm of the mind. who gets just as tongue-tied and needs that extra degree of formality and careful planning, just like you. how i envy those who can create masterful pieces of conversation, like delicate glass trinkets they manage to display in the recesses of their intellect, somehow able to call them forth without losing one bit of their sparkle or truth.
i am so unpoetic and jagged and clumsy. my gait is unsteady and i am often the victim of my body’s disagreements with balance and composure. any imperfection in the floor could send me to my doom, and quick. my waywardness often sabotages my ability to remember where the wall is, and upon remembering you will find me on that floor again. i am always in my hair. somewhere deep down in there, i am unable to be seen. i am an insect upon my person. undetectable but living a life all my own, hiding in plain sight. o, what a plain sight. what life is this? is this life at all?
who knows me anymore?
