This is not the first time we’ve danced, our fingers touching hands through the keys to the screens… Do you remember back then? You might have been 10? We took turns whispering our words in each other’s ears. We were so quiet and sad, we were so lonely. But it was ever so liberating to pretend we were the nameless characters we shared only with each other.
You wrote about an ideation and I’d fight back and null your creations. I hated the words you said about yourself and I wanted to show you I was fighting for you. I hated your fantasies because I was scared they’d come true and I had no idea what I’d do without you. Times and channels have changed, we so easily move on with our lives and dismiss these moments of reverie.
I miss you. I miss us. So I chased you down my journals and found a delight. It hurts me so much, but pain reminds us we are alive. In 2002 I declared myself a witch to be stoned as I wrote of the voices and what I had heard…
- “K? you’re home? since when? we’ve been praying for you.” -pastor Ian.
- “She’s a bad influence.” -anonymous.
- “I’ve heard that you do it a far bit too. I heard you rooted Cheunga and Clayton.” -John M..
- “If you have to vent on paper, then there must be something wrong in your life that you aren’t lifting to god.” -Daisy.
- “Men have no respect for you, and neither does anybody else.” -Mother.
- “Don’t get K to dance with you guys. Get somebody who can actually dance, like Joanne.” -Tom.
I could not tell you what motivates me because I don’t really know. It is other people that move me into action. Other people remind me of feelings, events, places, things and experiences that I might once have had.
I defied ascension and demanded I stay until I could grasp those I love and carry them off into space or wherever it is my propellored heart wants to go. If we only have the here and now and it only exists where we are, then why would I choose leave if I had to go at it alone?
And yet you torment me, I am confused. I thought we finished our games but you come back for me. For more. Or Not. I just see what I want to see and think you are reaching for me. I once found you in Marduk and we shared our words back and forth. Our poetry was rudimentary, simple, a repetitive structure but we were yet young… Ma’at might have been our greatest success and most passionate of love working. Our lips would collide in stolen moments in time, a game we liked to play to see how long we could get away with this under everyone’s nose.
What form is this now? A bitter trick before my eyes? Is this my mind planting lies it desires? I don’t know I don’t want to know I don’t want more guilt for ego stroking. Because I love to kiss, and cuddle and nuzzle and purr. I want to lie here, or there, or where you may see me. I’m more exhibitionist than voyeur, I get pleasure from giving pleasure.
haven’t slept for days, been surviving on caffiene and your guitarbranded as insane, he has invaded your mind and your heartpreoccupy your days, but thoughts of him within just won’t shut upinfected all your brain, the only cure is to rip it out.this isn’t what you wanted, how now your life revolves around himwith feelings not reciprocated, you hate him because you love himspawned from a mistake, can’t go back and change what was donesin you chose to take, but sex with two is more fun than just with oneliving life the wrong way, i am contagious with corruptionburn me at the stake, i evoke only lust never to be loved.