I like to daydream. With each person who has come into my life, there is a shelf of daydreams stacked haphazardly into this library in my head. There is a three hour long drive north through the prairies, the Rockies to one side and snow capped mountains in the summer. The fields are golden but there is a whole city piercing the sky in my imagination and in a dank apartment somewhere we are standing together and he is shocked that I am pregnant. His mouth gapes, the art on the walls melts like warm chocolate.
I am sometime wealthy sitting in front of a fire and remembering someone. I pull out old records from bookshelves and they are scattered on white carpet. I write one name on paper and try to bridge over a sea but he is dead. I listen to the same song until I love it like he told me to and it makes me feel closer to him, like he’s still alive and maybe at that moment he is listening to that song too. There is the sound of high heels on marble, the splash of water against tiles, the slant of moonlight through long windows. There are four cars in the driveway, plaques on the walls. There are too many memories to count and they cluster crushed like cereal caught between the sofa cushions. There is the sniff that signals, his voice like a tiara. I remember his hands and I remember him standing at the window with his back to me. At that moment I am wearing him. “Are you still there?”
I am sometime wealthy sitting in front of a fire and remembering someone. I pull out old records from bookshelves and they are scattered on white carpet. I write one name on paper and try to bridge over a sea but he is dead. I listen to the same song until I love it like he told me to and it makes me feel closer to him, like he's still alive and maybe at that moment he is listening to that song too. There is the sound of high heels on marble, the splash of water against tiles, the slant of moonlight through long windows. There are four cars in the driveway, plaques on the walls. There are too many memories to count and they cluster crushed like cereal caught between the sofa cushions. There is the sniff that signals, his voice like a tiara. I remember his hands and I remember him standing at the window with his back to me. At that moment I am wearing him. "Are you still there?"
There is light. It is morning, the sun creeps over the cars and trucks - filters through the smog like memories of old-spice left on my cardigan. It is delicious and I watch it like last-supper delights. I want it to fill me up and infiltrate me. That moment is so singular and it sharpens to an acute point. It pricks and pringles.
There was always me.
Momentarily, it is silent, that pin-drop nothing between action and thought, that instinctive nothing. time inflicted. I flex and arch my back. Feline. I look at the clock. 5.AM. Approximately thirty minuets and counting. Minimalistic and voluptuous, the 45th floor apartment, my boudoir my rug. Twenty minuets. my future is now and I release my legs, unfold like an arm chair. Stand up and leave. Today is new. Today is fresh paint, I want to paint the canvas red-black.
The city-cars shall toot my name, the exhaust fumes breathless with my conquests.
I make him say it and I frost his words on the glass so I can sleep. In my dreams the walls turn to red silk and we rip through them, butter running down damp glass. There are streaks on each of us and he is somewhere behind me. I can't see him, he laughs and I reach out in the dark. There is a sea in the corner and it climbs the walls like the atmosphere. There is a web on the floor and I rip through it like a blade. There is his smell in front of my eyes and his taste in my hands. I fall like haphazardly stacked mirrors in front of him and everywhere we are mixed.
There is nothing but me, I say it before and after. I say it at weddings, where I show up the bride. I say it at the weddings where I show up the groom. There was always me. there was no child, no mother, no father no brother no lover. There was the concrete, then there was light. There was the sun and there was me. matching, cameleon in gucci-dior-prada-kenzo. Kenzo? I am sucessful I am me. There was no lover, no child I had ever wanted. I am not a woman. “I am a force of nature”.
My heels continue to click. I miss the cracks in the pavements, my stilettos are singing with the birds. I am still walking. I am always walking.
I wrote about you, grafitti I pissed in a downtown tunnel. At the airport we leaned against each other and I caught the button of your shirt between my lips. There is salt on the edges of my plate and something floating in my belly. There is your voice telling me to run away but my ankles lock at the sound of your breath. It's like a mesh that I can see through but you are too far away. I make you say it again and you burst into me. I built a bar in New York City and someone beautiful tore her dress there, toilet paper caught between her legs, a mermaid trail over the stage. I made her sing and she was hoarse with the moon in her face. I brought her champage and all over my tongue was your tequila taste. We made the roof fall in and you put me on the table and I pebbled with the cold. There is ice on your fingers and there is strangeness in me. Guava juice gushing like the waterfall, chlorine between your legs. We put tapered candles against the walls but then our stage fell away onto the beach.
I always wanted to write a book. To sleep under the stars with gypsy girls. To have my hair knotted. Torn out at the scalp in heated cat-roars. My fists can do the talking. Today my nails command their own respect. Beautifully manicured. I admit, I want to taste the dirt lurking underneath. That grit after mud-pies. The saline sensuous blood seeping through, trickled streams down cheeks after heated-debates.
The morning stretches beyond me. It goes on and on. I talk articulate, animated with eyes and contacts. Polite nods, ahan, yes. I could write a story about her face, I look and look. They speak. I approve. So many oceans of faces. So many stories.
Today is no different from Wednesday. I have everything I have ever wanted.
I went for a long drive again, as the trees passed me by on a long road to nowhere I tried not to think and just enjoy the view, but I couldn’t help myself I had to think, was the road my life and the trees were years passing me by, or were the trees my memories and dreams that I forgotten, I don’t know when I will get tired and turn the car around to go home, but what will I do at home, I will still be alone in my head, so I keep driving.
I went for a long drive again, as the trees passed me by on a long road to nowhere I tried not to think and just enjoy the view, but I couldn’t help myself I had to think, was the road my life and the trees were years passing me by, or were the trees my memories and dreams that I forgotten, I don’t know when I will get tired and turn the car around to go home, but what will I do at home, I will still be alone in my head, so I keep driving.
:k: my feelings exactly except i would put train instead of car
and as the trees pass by i keep thinking deeper and deeper, and sooner or later my sight can not see sround me but only those internal images…
i’m running free in the lovely sunny valley. it is summer, a torrent is flowing and its crystal clear water attracts because sun is so hard i feel warm, i lie down in the fresh flow, with sun in drops like multiple rainbows…
Hiccup I am not even going to marry you. Let's live in sin. In Scotland. We can wear black veils over our faces, lace gloves on our hands, we can steal Renoirs and Manets, stealth at night. We can ask the moon to go away every fortnight, I already have a fairy tiara, I can dye it black and become a witch. We can have slave men build us a trench in the garden. Make apple trees blossom in the middle of winter, onto the swimming pool, so we can float scented. I want a castle and empire waist dresses. I want candles on every step in the staircase. I want a library that goes on forever. And hiccup for weird conversation.
I wanna be on my boat in gods country fishing, while my beer chills in the water, looking at the clouds that have blocked the sun, listening to the kids playing on the shore, I started the engine and sped off away from society, its me my dog and my memories, why did I let her go I ask myself, it was time or maybe it wasn’t meant to be I answered, sun came out of the clouds again, I like sun it keeps me warm, I like sun shining on my face while I lay on my deck with my thoughts
Correction: You want me as your muse, your delight. I am your everything and I am Devinne. The world ends at my feet and starts in my eyes. They are deep chasms of wisdom and delight. My paintings are in your alter and you keep my hair in a box. The dresses do not matter. You can hold your waist in your hands. The conversation is all tumblings of lips over tongues. The castles are crumbling, the liars are on stakes. "On this road that we have taken". We were walking, we have awakened!
We travel the world and stop at nothing. There is nothing more great. Nothing more. This is it. This speed in motion. This relative intensity. How obtusely collateral, "incorrigibly incompatible" We shall burn the sun to shame.
as i stared at you i realised you're of my kind...and suddenly saw me in few decades from now on,
you're my hope, my dope
we are freaks, we will allways marvel and never ever let ourselves get caught in everyday's net.
no one around us can make us feel the need to settle. some music is allways in the air, and we feel like dancing for everything...
the world revolves around us, and the earth could stop spnning than our heads would still spin on our thoughts...
we live to love, but we love to learn and no one is called Sophia
I had to be on foot cause the tanks cant climb hills, I have to be careful cause I might get killed on this job, I m playing the odds again, for what for money, I walked across the fields of poppies to the village where the bad men lived, there were kids playing outside, cute little kids reminded me of my younger brother and cousins, but I m doing a job I cant feel right now, I paint the house with laser and lie down in the field as I hear the jets fly over me I make sure that my target is well lit. I hear the bangs of dummies as they fall on the house and a kids hand drops next to me with debrie. I throw it away as it was blocking my view I call in my report as I see someone moving, and then I hear the jets again this time I didn’t hear anyone. I packed up and left, I made good money today maybe I will do it again
