finally, something productive.
someone help me, i've officially lost it.
(a dialogue.)
on Monday morning i reached the tipping point i reached no more never more the end of the world flat as a plate just as they’ve said! and i lay in a bit of confusion as i reach out and find nothing but a hungry vacuum sucking on my finger like those little suction cups attached to vehicular ornaments
the world is gone, i state, or rather, i am gone
the more i try to strip away, the more frantic i become. the more raw i become. periods hanging off the the ends of sentences are cut away and left to fall before they can get desperate enough to hang themselves strangulate themselves with poor innocent nearby letters i liberate i free them they fall they fall
.
.
.
this is nothing like it’s supposed to be
this end of the world thing
or rather the end of me
because though i still feel alive, feel the blood coursing and pumping through my vessels, i feel dead as hell
the devil asks if i would like to venture there.
(that period was considered emotionally stable enough, either that, or Lucifer just really hates those periods)
where is here where is there
you are blind, he says, lacing his stickly fingers along my eyes, oh so blind, my child. oh so desperate. i love desperate things. they delight me.
i was told my entire life not to be tempted
then do not be tempted.
i don’t know, what to do, otherwise
(the evolution of language; i have moved on to semi-colons;)
i can smell him behind me, his long hair draping over my shoulders, and he is embracing my neck as if it were an old friend, an old lover oh please do say hello
be frank, he whispers into the depths of my skin, invading and destroying the sensibility of every living cell. you were never a good person. you lied, you cheated, oh how you lied. do not even speak of falsehoods to me; i know all. i know the way you are dark in your heart, however much your eyes pretend to be light. oh how you are the pretender indeed. oh you fallen angel. oh you fallen lover.
i don’t care; the way your words intoxicate me; i merely stare ahead until i can digest no more
the devil traces my back, knobs of spinal cord protruding and winding their treacherous way down. you are like an instrument, a musical instrument. each square inch of you must be played with care, must be handled with such care, fragile. must be explored deeply, that heart. you are made of heartwood, the dead center of a living tree. you are made of wood, and i play your ivory keys with ease.
(please god
-there-is-no-god-in-this-world-
help me.)
i am dead
you are dead.
[but i was never alive
[you were alive once. in this hole. in this hellhole. oh were you blessed. then i got a hold of you, and corruption stalked your once-alive heart. you’ve forgotten - i was the light, before.
this is news to me
i can’t
remember
(Remember the time you were a drunkard? You downed five shots before leaving, upon which you gave a homeless man living in a newspaper tent the remainder of your money - ten cents - and twenty seconds out of the bar you decide to cross the street. Wrong decision - smashed into thirty pieces.)
i’m
(Or remember the time you were a gentle mother, such a gentle mother you washed your babe with care. You used the hypoallergenic soap. You dutifully mixed the infant formula everyday. Until your [always absent anyway] husband left you for a younger woman, and you were so enraged you drowned your flesh in a soap-bubbled bath, holding that soft bundle of flesh beneath clear circular clouds where it could dream and die another day. And you shot yourself in the head promptly afterwards. It was your flesh, after all.)
not
(Or recall the time you were a high school student, so painfully ignored and ridiculed by what seemed like peers all around the world. You listened to metal, no, you listened to Fall Out Boy, no, you listened to Madonna, everyday wishing things would get better. One day it got so bad you decided to cut your hair, and cutting your hair led to cutting, and bloody X’s went everywhere everywhere.)
here
(Or perhaps the time you were a successful businessman, but when your company went bankrupt, you became so in debt you were threatened with eviction of house, eviction of life, eviction of self, and out of despair, you threw yourself off your office building, saying hello to the sky one last time.)
anymore
[Lucifer buries his nose into the crook of my neck. I don’t mind; after all, I am an old and close friend of his. He says, I am asking you one last time, would you like to be with me for eternity?
Except I can respond with nothing but my bitter tears, because he has already stolen my voice.]
-fin.
(a dialogue.)
on Monday morning i reached the tipping point i reached no more never more the end of the world flat as a plate just as they’ve said! and i lay in a bit of confusion as i reach out and find nothing but a hungry vacuum sucking on my finger like those little suction cups attached to vehicular ornaments
the world is gone, i state, or rather, i am gone
the more i try to strip away, the more frantic i become. the more raw i become. periods hanging off the the ends of sentences are cut away and left to fall before they can get desperate enough to hang themselves strangulate themselves with poor innocent nearby letters i liberate i free them they fall they fall
.
.
.
this is nothing like it’s supposed to be
this end of the world thing
or rather the end of me
because though i still feel alive, feel the blood coursing and pumping through my vessels, i feel dead as hell
the devil asks if i would like to venture there.
(that period was considered emotionally stable enough, either that, or Lucifer just really hates those periods)
where is here where is there
you are blind, he says, lacing his stickly fingers along my eyes, oh so blind, my child. oh so desperate. i love desperate things. they delight me.
i was told my entire life not to be tempted
then do not be tempted.
i don’t know, what to do, otherwise
(the evolution of language; i have moved on to semi-colons;)
i can smell him behind me, his long hair draping over my shoulders, and he is embracing my neck as if it were an old friend, an old lover oh please do say hello
be frank, he whispers into the depths of my skin, invading and destroying the sensibility of every living cell. you were never a good person. you lied, you cheated, oh how you lied. do not even speak of falsehoods to me; i know all. i know the way you are dark in your heart, however much your eyes pretend to be light. oh how you are the pretender indeed. oh you fallen angel. oh you fallen lover.
i don’t care; the way your words intoxicate me; i merely stare ahead until i can digest no more
the devil traces my back, knobs of spinal cord protruding and winding their treacherous way down. you are like an instrument, a musical instrument. each square inch of you must be played with care, must be handled with such care, fragile. must be explored deeply, that heart. you are made of heartwood, the dead center of a living tree. you are made of wood, and i play your ivory keys with ease.
(please god
-there-is-no-god-in-this-world-
help me.)
i am dead
you are dead.
[but i was never alive
[you were alive once. in this hole. in this hellhole. oh were you blessed. then i got a hold of you, and corruption stalked your once-alive heart. you’ve forgotten - i was the light, before.
this is news to me
i can’t
remember
(Remember the time you were a drunkard? You downed five shots before leaving, upon which you gave a homeless man living in a newspaper tent the remainder of your money - ten cents - and twenty seconds out of the bar you decide to cross the street. Wrong decision - smashed into thirty pieces.)
i’m
(Or remember the time you were a gentle mother, such a gentle mother you washed your babe with care. You used the hypoallergenic soap. You dutifully mixed the infant formula everyday. Until your [always absent anyway] husband left you for a younger woman, and you were so enraged you drowned your flesh in a soap-bubbled bath, holding that soft bundle of flesh beneath clear circular clouds where it could dream and die another day. And you shot yourself in the head promptly afterwards. It was your flesh, after all.)
not
(Or recall the time you were a high school student, so painfully ignored and ridiculed by what seemed like peers all around the world. You listened to metal, no, you listened to Fall Out Boy, no, you listened to Madonna, everyday wishing things would get better. One day it got so bad you decided to cut your hair, and cutting your hair led to cutting, and bloody X’s went everywhere everywhere.)
here
(Or perhaps the time you were a successful businessman, but when your company went bankrupt, you became so in debt you were threatened with eviction of house, eviction of life, eviction of self, and out of despair, you threw yourself off your office building, saying hello to the sky one last time.)
anymore
[Lucifer buries his nose into the crook of my neck. I don’t mind; after all, I am an old and close friend of his. He says, I am asking you one last time, would you like to be with me for eternity?
Except I can respond with nothing but my bitter tears, because he has already stolen my voice.]
-fin.