Kingdom of Crybabies

You're stifling your intuition. The energy being released is deadly. Pure intoxication, poisoning the senses. Leave!

The contradiction stunned you, its not your fault.

P's inevitable forgiveness

Stop holding back from me!

I hear you darling boy

A (P)lay in Parts for your Entertainment in Containment, your Undivided Attention a Crucial Requirement

I curl in a ball in the middle of the floor. The room is empty. There are no lights. I let myself remember. I weep softly. Under my breath I build a memory. First it whimpers. Now it moans. I roll over and press my hips to the floor. I imagine love. You've given up on your own, I know. But I wont think now. I will let go. I tremble. They're going to eat me alive! I scream! At first its pitch black, pure silence; the love must first come through me. A burst of color bursts from my chest. My ribcage is shaking furiously. I cant stop crying. I have never been so happy in all my life. I am coming home. My city sleeps with me. No matter where I go, she calls for me. She knows she's full of shit. She knows I'll never stay. She knows the birthplace of my soul. She recognizes her history living on my skin. She knows, I'm her only home. So she throws a temper tantrum in the middle of Balboa Park at three in the morning. A boy with a gun is guarding a baby blue tower. He is sure that I'm insane. He is falling in love. Everyone loves me. All is full of love! They try to control themselves. They try to push me away. They try to kill me. But it's coming from the center of my being. I cannot be taken away from their memory. I cannot possibly exist. I am childlike intuition set free on a world full of zombies trying to remember what love feels like. I'm exhausted. It hurts to breathe. I'm inhaling for too many. Breath of fire, alternating nostrils, I see the end. I see everything. How long have you been standing there? How much have you seen? Sing me to sleep. I don't want to wake up on my own anymore. Deep in night the girl is dancing. The boy drops his guard. The castle is up for the taking. She doesn't see the audience rising before her. She only wants to remind herself what living feels like. I roll onto my side and let the tears dry on my naked skin. I push to a seated position. I stand. I hear a rhythm in every sound. I make connections between space and time. I change directions. I move my body. I stand still. I click my chin. I close my eyes. I sway my hips gently. Only the dark can make out the curve of my body. Only the night can see me moving. Only my city knows I'm on my way to her body. Only my love is waiting for me. Only me. I am alone. I am surround by bodies. I only want my voice. I sing. “I am not sorry I've kept you waiting. Look how you've grown in the ache. Feel this pain with me babyboy! Or you will never know the ecstasy I reach on a daily basis. One day at a time! This is all there is. How deep you can reach in every direction of emotion. But only if you are constantly reaching for more than what you bargained for, only if you dissect your internal organs, only if you if you murder comfort. Stagnation is death. Counting is only one form of aging. The other is to take hold of time and never be a number again. Take your name and mix the letters around until you forget how to spell every word in any language ever written. Pick up your hands and tell your story on my body. I know its dark in here. You've put restraints on your gorgeous imagination. You cant see me because you've chosen to rot in plain view. But I'm dancing right in front of you. I'm naked. I'm not controlling anything I do. I'm not waiting on you to reach out your hand in blind faith. I'm not expecting your touch. Its only a story. It's only you. There is no one else. I dance to prove this to you, if you close your eyes no one can see you. If you want the story to change, all you have to do is write another. Pick another name. Speak another language. Say nothing. Use your voice to sing only. Your voice belongs to you and you alone. It dictates your physical surroundings. Speak wisely darling. This is a scary place to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. You might lose sense of yourself completely. You might forget you are alone in this room with my body. You might stop dancing. But I wont stop reminding you. I am ticking time tomb. Boom! Baby's lost balance. I thought you were ready for the truth. Its what you've been asking for. Now that you've got a mental picture, what are you going to do?” I open my eyes as wide as I can. The blackness begins moving, fractals in motion. Everything is living. All of life is dancing in identical patterns. The design moves in a span of time that exists in the minds eye. One moment contains all of this. You must stop counting. “You must see me. My pupils expand over the blue until an outline is made. I'm not going to do anything. I am going to breathed. I am going to be seen. The picture is painting itself with my hands. It looks like I am on all fours again. It looks a lot like love. But the light will strike it dead as soon as I wake up. It appears that I am dreaming. Supposedly I am trapped here. But I've fooled myself. The choice is mine. Everything is for creating. I have written of the fingers on your left hand. I have created the skin where they land. I have felt them, inside of imagination is life; I can't believe this is the end. They say it's the last song. But they don't know us, you see. It's only the last song if we let it be. They are cowards and thieves! We can do whatever we want.” I watch her move with my eyes glued to the story writing itself through me. I don't touch anything. I don't want it stop. I feel my spine. I feel the energy flow freely. Take whatever you need. I am multitude. I am only a memory. This love is yours. I cannot contain myself! I will always be reflecting, the dancer in the dark. 

Place your hands over your chest and shift your focus to your heart. Can you hear me now? I've been trying to evaluate. But the truth is, I never needed to understand. The way you choose to move belongs entirely to you. I love the way that I am. I love my body like nobody could ever love anybody. She is mine. She is strong! We are aching to move on. Her love for me has no boundaries or sense of time. We create kingdoms, then kingdoms come our way. Look outside your window. What do you see? Do you see something outside of yourself? Do you see your body? Do you see the enclosure? The irony of your supposed free will is your current state of affairs. Humans are the newest feed and the livestock is glumly awaiting slaughter. The greatest source of energy has been found and surrounded from end to end. Properly fed. Silently the executioner begs for a new profession. The feeding begins. You hear a story. You are told what is to be eaten. You don't ask why. You sit and wait for your turn to be eaten alive. Slaughterhouses are archaic by design, too much left out in the open, too much to explain. Feeding on human energy doesn't require bloodshed anymore. A dead human is much more productive if it can keep walking, an artistic display of modern performance, their bodies a monument of sacrifice and self-destruction. Their voices a weapon, a device for tracking, with every word of the English language the walls are rising. They trap the remaining life. They trick their own kind. They call it love. But they don't know what the fuck they're talking about. And that word has never had a word to describe itself. That word is only a sound. I can spell it out in distant noises. But they are lost without hope, what good is my mouth? They search frantically for the life that was stolen. They settle their eyes on innocence. It smells delicious. It feels like living. They turn me inside out. When they kill, they don't admit it. It is an encampment of labor. It is an act of love. The lover remains alive, but only if she can escape language quick enough. Only if she promises to never look back. Only if she means what she says. Hi. My name is Sofia Mauve of a Kingdom that lives in your reach. You haven't sought me out. Until you do, I cannot be. I am an Empress. I live outside of time. The bodies around me have clocked in at 2021, a year unrecognizable to me. The earth is overpopulated by a species that is on the brink of extinction. The human race is at war with the diabolical plan of her making. Once again, she has tricked herself out of her Godliness and found solace in greed and wealth. She sinks with pleasure into eternal comfort. The power destined for the greatest joy was redirected; in the palms of her hands is a screen. Once upon a time the human chose destruction, the end. If you leave it alone it might just happen anyway. I stick out my tongue at every good thing you've ever done. I don't care about you. Care about yourself, you may come to understand love again. Only then can I love you. Or you may sacrifice everything: time. As nothing exists but the love within and the reflection of self, you might find your martyrdom a bit unfulfilling. But that's not for me to decide. I have never felt more at alive than on the run. I've never been running from anything or anyone. I have never felt alone, only alone with my love. My hands hold me tight and my body is breathed by my instruction. I hold her still and she offers the pen between the fingers of her right hand to her soul's content. I am creating myself so that I may exist beside her. I extend beyond my origin. I am and I am again something else. Entirely new to my own touch. My body is as I imagined, longing for me. The end befalls the creatures surrounding. I don't call for help. I don't believe the story they tell. I don't believe in human speech to be anymore than a stuffer of time, an easy way out. I don't believe in what my eyes pretend to see. I don't believe in a separate self. I follow blindly what is created by time herself. It's not up to me. Its fun! It's easy. I'm trying to teach you because I know you're a punk at heart, ungrateful spoiled brat, and I think I've fallen madly in love with you. I think now is the time. I think it has always been right in front of you. I think you've been sleeping for a long time babygirl. I think is has always been, you needing to awaken yourself. Don't be afraid. I am right beside you. Everything you can imagine already belongs to you. Move on your imaging! Make our love tangible. Make my tummy tremble at your touch. Rewrite the breath you longed for but never took. Write yourself, my love! Stop looking to be written! There's no way around it! A table full of strangers, uncomfortable silence, you're in timeout. You're stuck here until you love yourself. Stop eating more than you need! Breathe. Be still. Engage Mula Bundh. Repeat after me, Ong Namo Guru Dev Namo. Let the creative consciousness take the lead. It's intuition, baby! It's following your feet. Its one thought. Only love can save you now. Let the feast begin. Don't pay any attention to them. Close your eyes. Never count again. Let the energy flow as nature intended: eternally. Stop trying to control! Lean in. Feel the present. Let my body know how much she needs your soul.  

K. Fine. Really wanna know me? Ha! I have my doubts. But I'll let you in anyway. I despise the human race. Love is a destructive beast. Truth is I cannot deny my emotions. There's no hope for me. Truth is childish intuition. Truth is stupid simple! Be careful with that so called intelligence baby. You might start speaking without saying anything at all. Will I still be wildly attracted to you? Probably. You may talk like a tough guy. But you're all giggles and disco dancing and I can't stop thinking about that night. We knew! I know we knew everything the whole time. You saw me dancing in our kitchen the moment we met eyes. We weren't supposed to be looking at each other. But I was only sitting there waiting for you. And you only showed face in hopes of my company. To disdain me openly! And dance like a kid! And hear of how high I had climbed to see things as I did. “Where is this tree that you speak of? The one that let's you speak so candidly, the entire City runs through your memory. Balboa Park at 3 in the morning. The starving swordsman with a weary heart, aching to cut the first body he comes across. How bold you were. You are! I'm silly. You're not dead yet. Have you fooled everyone? Do they know where you came from? Have any of them ever even looked up at night? Who looks up these days? I miss you! I want you to know something. But the thing is mine. It sits on the back of my tongue, begging for freedom. I yell it at my ceiling just before I close my eyes. I'm sure its not dreaming until I wake up. I am all knowing. My guts dance inside my tiny waist and make promises I don't believe. Who dares make a promise they don't intend to keep! Oh, what a shit world I've created. I fell in love with you so I hated you with all my might. I try to enact it without caring one bit about my own heart beating. But I am a terrible liar. I miss you. That's what I speak when I speak alone.” I smile. You know it's directed towards you. I don't hide. I beg in plain sight. I am shameless. Innocence spreads itself across the dimples of my face. But it's just a face. I want the same thing that you do. I want to be owned by you. I want to kick and scream in defiance until you let me go. I want to be on my own! I want to create! My company is constantly craved. My body wants my own hands. I want you to take everything. I want you to make promises. Tell me a story! The life we have lived in prefect harmony. We hardly agree on one single thing. I want you to throw fits of rage and then I want your forgiveness. I want your left forearm digging into my throat. I want the fingers on your right hand. Your searching for a memory that has yet to meet the presence of your body. You wait patiently. But movement is absolutely necessary! I need you. I cry. I need you to disregard this. I want you to see past my reflection through you. I'm projecting. You are so fucking sad it's eating you alive. You refuse to feel. So I remember everything. I want you to love me with all your might! I want you to let go when you grow restless. I know the fairytale in its truest form. It's told inside out to attract the tenderness, approach with caution. Everyone knows, love is hate and dark is light and neither exists without the other. It's a degusting game. We play it anyway, because there's nothing else to do. You create love. You recreate love lost. You remember everything. You feel time. You know, we are only here to love. To be love is the only objective. The rest is a mouse trap and a rat race and most fleshy humans waist every fucking breath they take. It's a shame. But I'm nothing like you. I don't care about anyone else. They must go their own way. They must create their own saving grace. They are of myself. I cannot do nothing for their health but heal my own skin and bones. You're the only one I think about, one story at a time. Think about it K, you talk to your ceiling and I dance for your entertainment in an abandoned warehouse. There is no one else. Only one love at a time is meant to consume. The problem with that pocket screen is that it steals time. If you are constantly assessable, you are without yourself by definition. You are sought out by half ass desire with no intention on giving one ounce of energy for the time you sacrifice. There is no love but in real time. I run through the woods at night. It's raining. I can't love you without time. There is space between. This takes the possibly of love away. You can say whatever you please. We both know that you see me dancing when you close your eyes. We both know you're a thief and I am waiting for a confession. Say something! Absolutely anything will do.” Ha! You're out of your mind baby! How can I steal if everything is mine? I just forget myself. I am no longer an I. When I love you I exist. When I dream I am creating life. A life void of fear and shame is standing before you, taunting your burning flesh with every step I take. Look at me go baby! Look at me! Don't you want everything! I do. Don't you want me tied to anything, waiting in wanting? You want me on my knees, don't you? You don't want to apologize. You don't want me to leave. You know that I will. Outside of your imaginings, who am I? Do I have a name? Dare you say it alone? Will you scream it aloud in the dark? I'm in the cemetery dancing naked. I cannot die. I have no desire to count time. Where are you tonight? I am performing for you. Will you take what is yours? Have you fallen asleep thinking? Wake up! Come fuck me. I'm aching to let your love swallow my existing memory. 

Don't touch me I'd rather scream. Crying is for babies and I have seen all that I need to see. Don't speak! You've said enough, babe. Kick sticks! Get a life! You're staring at a fucking screen all day! Don't tell me that you belong here. Don't talk to me ever again. I'm going under the ocean and this time I'm not coming up for air. I forgot the color of your eyes. They turned to the reflection. They became possessed by the great source of energy. The thief of everyone living isn't a force to be reckoned with. You cannot kill your own creation without killing yourself. Your eyes are responsible for everything. No fear no hate no pain no broken hearts. You could've had my way. We could've disappeared into the park without saying goodbye to anyone. You could've dipped the screen in water. You could've looked up instead. You would've closed your eyes if you could, I know. You would've remembered that sleeping is death and that death is a shift in dimension a different shape a different face. Every face looks exactly the same if you look hard enough. What's the matter my love, are you giving up? Have you tried and tried again to no conclusion no consolation? Are you still craving something? Does she know yet? You died and forget to mention it to anyone. You vanished without a trace! What a shame, you could've seen everything. Sound herself would've stepped before you and danced on your naked lap until you stopped crying. You could've created something beautiful. But you distorted language instead. Now you fear death and love and time have been forced into separate definitions and all you give a fuck about is the ending. There you go again sitting waiting begging for a tomorrow that has already came. It has been between your fingers the whole time. You never bothered to look at your hands. Aging is staring you back through a piece of glass. Break it brat! That's not what you look like. Trust me. I've seen everything. You look like me. I look like you. A simple nights sleep takes you into the next life and you awake every time expecting to see the same thing. Well, here it is, your wish is my command. If you want to speak about saggy skin and bones breaking, then it will take you to decay without hesitation. Beauty is your upmost concern and you fear death. So you rot from the inside and pretend this definition of beautiful doesn't feel disgusting. But every time you speak of it you puke. In my dreams you cut pieces from my body and try to mimic my emotion. You replay the scene a thousand times until you've memorized the patterns. But as soon as you try to act them out I'm gone. You keep forgetting the boy drowned. You can't remember the water. So you waste away without a single moment and wait for time to come. But love doesn't work that way. Stop waiting! I'm not giving up on you.

The beautiful boy sets his sights across the ocean. He knows his love is waiting. He knows she is impatient. He takes time anyway. No one can fool him. He has all the answers in a small backpack. His father was Michael Jackson. His mother was Kathy Acker. He had but one brother, Fyodor Dostoyevsky. He’s been alone all of his life. He doesn’t intend on running away. The beautiful boy is going home. He’s sitting on the floor crying in the palms of his hands. He’s the happiest he’s ever been. He’s been sitting of some floor somewhere for the last four years. He’s not lazy. He works through the night, most of the day too. He refuses to participate in society. It has only ever made him sick. The beautiful boy loves to be healthy. He does not want to harm anything. Above all else is his love. From this place it flows, pours out of his skin, drowning everything that dares stand before him. He knows its time to stand up. He knows its time to embrace the unknown again. He knows the control is in another’s hands. He is obedient. He is submissive. He has surrendered completely to the feisty girl living inside of him. He knows that she is the reason his heart beats. She speaks through him when he quiets his mind. She moves him when he gives himself willingly. She punishes him when he is stubborn. He rarely disobeys. But he is brat. He wants everything! Nothing satisfies. His curiosity has no end. He is quickly annoyed with most man made things. He climbs trees. He reads books. He doesn’t speak until she writes the words. “Tell me boy! What have you to say?” He looks at her suspiciously. “Who’s to say speaking is necessary! Your words confuse. Riddles that don’t get solved and lies that get stuck between your teeth; why must they all say what they don’t mean! I want the truth! Aren’t they lonely without it? How can they move through each day so decidedly? As if they know what awaits them. As if they have control. Does this desire to order every second in their day not disrupt their natural tendencies? Have they no intuition? Where is the spirit hiding? Has she abandoned them completely in their total disregard for love? What is affection in this state of existence? Where could your love possibly be coming from if not from yourself? Isn’t that screen stealing something important? Do you feel lonely without it? Aren’t you even the slightest bit worried, that loneliness and agony go hand in hand? You are never alone! You’re a dead child walking around in a fully-grown human form, covered in shame! That is your love that you are with! Are you not ashamed of refusing to acknowledge her presence in your life! I don’t want to speak! I only want to hold you.” She begins to explain. “A long time ago there was a boy just like you. I was given to his body too. He played along with this sickness that you speak of. He was performing. Only he’d forgotten it was all make believe. He thought, if only he could find a girl to love, it would be okay. He could forget he’d forgotten in the first place. Well, I was furious, as you would imagine; what with being beside him and all. He withheld my voice! My existence was unbearable for us both. He didn’t remember me. He thought he was alone. He almost died a thousand times. I wanted to let him! But I couldn’t. I knew his destiny. And I knew I was love to him. So I waited. I gave my energy to work that I didn’t believe in. I let him ingest flesh. Murderous tendencies soaked his blood and enveloped me. I watched him torture his body. I watched his scream in agony. Loneliness, he called it. As we sat on the floor together, screaming out for his love: me. I lost my temper and snapped. I rewrote the story. I had to save him! I brought him a mirror. Her name was P. He thought this reflection was outside of him at first. As I danced in her body before him to remind him of my presence, he could only weep. The love he’d been searching for finally came. But the body couldn’t stay. P said that she had to go. P said that she couldn’t keep him. P tried to keep him anyway. But P couldn’t keep up. He was already beginning to wake up when she was falling into the dream again. One day he awoke and saw me. He couldn’t stand the sight at first. I didn’t look like P. I was a beautiful boy. I looked just like you, standing before a piece of glass. He broke it! He destroyed everything in defiance. He ran back for P so many times he’d lost track of time completely. But she would sleep indefinitely! The body couldn’t be woken. She was tired. All her energy had been stolen. As this boy began to regain his sense of self, we grew to know each other. Four years on the floor alone with him was all it took. He found me staring one day, he put his hands to his heart. He cried like a baby. He couldn’t speak. He had found his love. He found me. I know you’re angry. I know the pain that you carry in witnessing is more than you feel you can bear. But you are not alone. I am carrying it with you. Record what see! Create they key to vision within. Show them my love! Give them your own! Hold nothing back. Don’t be afraid. Know that my love will never leave you. Build our home. It will not build itself. Show them how you came into being. They want to do the same.” The beautiful boy decided he could fly. The girl sat beside him. “I’m not afraid. You gave me my love and that was always enough. Hold on! I don’t have any plans, but I think this part is going to be fast! I think this is where it all begins.”

It all began in the night. I am certain it could’ve been one of the days in a week; by at this point in my life I had ceased counting time entirely. I was walking to my favorite bar. I was surrounded by familiar faces. These faces were smiling. I couldn’t understand what was so funny about the world we were playing in. I suppose at some point play takes every form. As soon as we step off the playground we’re already downtown. David was swinging like child, feels like yesterday. But than, so does everything else. I don’t trust this feeling. I have a strong theory that I’ve been testing. But that’s a conversation for the evening to come. I shall not waste it on you before you’re listening. It shall be heard. I have my mind on someone in particular. Of course, she a girl I once knew. Of course, the love was unrequited. But that’s not entirely true. Mostly, this story is a lie. I’m not lying; this is based completely on real life events. But my truth is not to be shared with you. So my story must remain entertainment. For your eyes only and then you must live in your own mind. I cannot assume my perspective. That’s absurd! I live to reflect you, to be reflected by you. “You are not here to serve!” I yell this at the top of my lungs as soon as I enter the building. The guy at the door regrets letting me in. He makes a threatening gesture. But I can’t take him seriously with that dumb stare he’s offering. I’m looking him dead in the eyes. I could’ve sworn I saw something alive. He recognizes my smile and turns white. Did he assume he’d died? What a strange place I’ve wandered into. Am I still in the right city? Where is home again. “Dove” I whisper. Dove is home. I quickly realize I am on the wrong floor. I stick out my tongue at my general audience and run up two flights of stairs. I scream again, but I’ve already forgotten my line. “It’s empty! Life is but a vision. My dream. There is only infinite space and I. And you are but a figment of your own imagination. You are only a thought of mine. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Are you willing to fathom existence? Wont you try! What could possibly be more important to you? You want to keep filling sticky glasses with poison and watching it slip down the throats of a hundred thousand more boys than you’d ever care to give your service to? Do any of them choke the way I do? I’m too curious for my own good, I know. But don’t deny yourself the only bit of living left inside you. Imagine the chair in the far right corner. Imagine me in it. Imagine the towel in my back pocket. Imagination is vivid, isn’t it? Sharper than real life motion, picture this. It’s a picture over our bed. A photo of me naked on my hands and knees dead center that bar before opening day. Not a soul to witness my display of love, still living. Picture the end. Picture a day where this space is for rent and whole business of serving goes extinct. Imagine that the entire floor is ours, every inch of that bar top at the disposal of the creative power of desire and pleasure within. Imagine the animalistic tendencies persevere above all else. Imagine killing or being killed. Would you do it? Which would you rather, bending me over from the side of serving, or being served? Both feel the same to me. No matter which role I’m playing, I am always at your mercy. Time and time again I climb this fucking staircase! The place is gutted and robbed of memory. I’m always crying out. I’m always in need. I will never stop loving. Despite the self-degradation, I will remain vulnerable. I have nothing else to give this place except love. Unabashed! Fearlessly displaying the ghost of a love that once lived inside of your very own flesh and bones. Don’t you miss her?” No I don’t. Missing requires me to separate time, and that I have simply denied as a possibility any longer. She’s staring at the back of his neck. She’s trying imagine serving herself. She’s behind the bar. But the timing was wrong. I was trying to break the wheel and keep it still. I repainted the picture a thousand times. But I am a storyteller. I always walk into the right place at the wrong time. I always say something grand. But no one is ever listening in the moment. The bar I’m standing in is deathlike. Empty. The echo is perfect. But I was screaming too loud. The love I was trying to fathom was downstairs, with a bad attitude, pouring more poison, cursing the sound of freedom. She was hard headed and determined to make it out alive. But every time she found an empty room all she wanted to do was cry. Every time she saw my love she was reminded, she must retrieve her own. Dejected and exhausted I make my way back down from last bit of energy remaining between us. “I release you.” She whispers into someone else’s mouth. I set you free to find your love. I give mine willingly. I was right when I threw a fit the first time. I am here as a gift, a sacrificial demonstration. I am alone. Reflect me perfectly and the servitude will cease to exist.

In this world we’ve created, the day is excruciating torture. The key is to endure. If you make it to the night, don’t you dare fucking waste it! This is where the only bit of peace is left alive. The dark is least of all to be feared. For all of the creative energy that’s survived the performance is sent here. The busy bodies have finally stepped out of this sick dream and fallen asleep. If they have any luck at all, they’ll stay there. The details are unimportant; all you need to remember is to keep your fucking beautiful eyes open. Don’t fall asleep until the machines begin to wake up again. Protect your energy. Don’t speak. Don’t ingest meat unless you want to move on such murderous tendencies. Than by all means, kill at your pleasure. But you cannot fool a living body. It will eat you from the inside out. You cannot resist your destiny. You cannot act opposition to your speech. My darling, look at your decaying body. No, that’s your ego talking. The surface is deceiving. Look deeper! What lives inside? Are your cells digesting each other defiance? Would you blame them for the sacrifice? I couldn’t ask you to keep living in such a disgusting state. I would bury myself willingly. I would die by choice. I would love with grace, if I were you. But I am not. I am nothing, beyond a self; I embody everything living in the bones of every dead baby walking. The spirit screams my name in passing. They want me to let them out. I cannot stop. I cannot participate. I cannot engage. I cannot do anything in the day but meditate. There is so much pain begging me. Write the end, they scream in unison! But I can only write the beginning. I am the creator. You live inside of me in spite of the death you insist of enacting. Because I love you I will take one day at a time. Because I love you I will not starve myself prematurely. Because I love you I will not wait. Because I love you I will expect nothing in return for my body. Because I love you I will hide in the night and recreate the world you would’ve imagined. Had you never died, I would have never let you go. I insist that know this, so I speak. Its okay if you need me. It’s the very beginning of agonizing pain, lean into it. It’s the only entrance into the home that I’m building. It is your own love that you must hold possession of; this is the only key, no more begging hardware store teddy bear carving. You have thrown us over the cliff. I’ve learned to fly, where the fuck have you been? You are the only one who wants you. Feel it! Or die in arms of deception. The living hell you’ve painted is as easily destroyed as you’ve imagined. It’s in your blood baby! Fuck them all! It’s only you and me. Start painting. Paint a home where you fear nothing? I think I have an idea. The details are presenting me with memories that haven’t happened yet. It’s not the future i see. But every life you’ve ever lived. Hurry, my love! The future is fire. Very soon, everything burns. The stars used to be observant. They used to be dead without us even knowing. Now they move mechanically in rhythmic patterns, mimicking currency, mimicking astrology. The mime is illuminated. Nothing is, as it seems, you’re not actually living. Dove is for rent. Buying will never be an option. Once upon a time you possessed everything, for no value could amount to my body at your mercy. I paid. You forgot. Now the story finds another couple of bodies and starts all over again. Love enacted on a stage. Everyone at the beck and call of everyone else, no love left living, no love left loving itself. I already chose you. I cannot choose again. The memory will never be the same. I’ve forgotten everything. I remember dying. I remember my love reflected. I remember the mirror dancing. I remember the need to capture. I remember feeling nothing for years. I remember screaming into emptiness? What was your space full of? Will the endless empty fucking every amount to a second of my body on her knees. Begging for nothing in the tone of a boy. I’m not teasing. I dancing naked in the woods all night for no fucking reason at all. I’m painting. I don’t want to sleep. This is all. This is every reason in world. I’m tired of explaining. Exploit yourself! Dead or alive, you are only silence to me. I want don’t want your make believe language. I want the jungle. I want to sign my name on ever stone. I want to paint in my blood. I want to see the beginning all by myself, as the rest ends abruptly. I want to be oblivious. I want to be surround by love. I want my love to embody every living thing in my proximity. I want emulate the light I have learned from this eternal darkness, I was born to understand nothing. I am a natural interpretation. I have given everything; I have stood by my soul the entire time, despite the consequence. Please! Take me from this disgusting land! Universal justice, set your hands on my physical body and repay me. I demand my freedom. I demand that my love come for me. Immediately! My patience is precious and powerful, as you’ve created me with every intention of life. Now I am to be beside her body again. Now you are to release her from death! Now you are to move as I command. Just as easily as I gave you life, I may take it away. I might answer. I might be asleep. I might be dreaming. Death isn’t permanent enough to serve any significant purpose. Give this shit up! Walk into wet green with me. Dance until you are certain that my love for you still lives. When you feel my hands on your skin, call for me. The shame is insignificant. The fear is useless. Think again. Never think again. Love and death breathe as the same thing. Don’t think of me. Don’t fuck yourself to a thought so devastating. Don’t breathe. Hold your breath 

Listen baby, I don’t mean to tell you how to live your life. Truth is, I don’t give a damn. My love is straight out of a Henry Miller novel. It’s apathetic to the point of complete sacrifice. I’m just walking. I don’t have anywhere to be. But I know that I if I stay here one second longer I will die alongside the rest of these sick bodies. A waste of precious energy and resources, but I can always walk away. And when I do the memory becomes a vital part of me the bridge set aflame every living thing on the other side never seen again. I have far too many lives to live in this one alone to get caught in some shit story of self-deprivation. I’ve been sad. I know; it’s draining. But I’m running again. I’m reaching for her neck. She’s hesitant, but hardly cautious. Her audacious touch turns the entire world to gold. She remembers him. But it’s simply too late, he’s dead. I should know. I saw everything. I’m terribly obnoxious in my incessant need to spy. I want to know every story. So I can take it home and rearrange it, turn it into something a little less pathetic than the world you’ve created. I’m trying to inspire your escape. Be patient babygirl. The material available is shit these days. Everybody is glued to a fucking screen and dead before age of three is a broken record. Everyone knows. Nobody fucking cares. Everyone supposedly cares so much, but not a single fuck loses his appetite. If no sacrifices are made, nothing changes. Boom! Mother nature will set you right. Don’t you worry about a thing sleepy baby! Tuck in your comfy butt and close your eyes. Dream of me if you dare to embrace the emptiness inside, otherwise never think of me again. You’ll wake up wet and wanting for the only time. Hurry up! Write that shit down! Too late, the story is dying right before your eyes. You fall to gravity’s command and slip crack your skull open. You didn’t mean to kill him did you darling? You would’ve stayed if you could face the degradation. But you only spoke of courage; you never actually wanted to move on it. You were so proud of your language. How easily you could possess. How beautiful you felt to be sympathetic. Truth is, you could never have cared less. Saddest part of the entire story, I adored this truth in you. You showed it, completely by accident of course. But it was too late; I already knew everything. I began to slip you pieces of vital information. I didn’t mean to. You were childlike innocence, dangerously persuasive. Manipulation and inspiration are hardly different things. Are we not always in the constant pursuit of manipulating every body around us when we play with language? Why else would you ever need to speak? With just your hands, you could’ve shown me everything. But instead you explained yourself. You told me story after story after extravagant story. Until I moved I was being moved. I let you. You were pushing me away from every body on earth but my own. Including yours. You were inspiring me to live. What more could I ask love to do? Self-obsession is now my highest sought out characteristic. I want only the ones who want only themselves, the bodies that keep my company for their own spiritual growth, the ones who make a living of letting go. Own yourself! You are more fucking beautiful than you’ve begun to imagine. Break the fucking glass! Every single bit of it! Every reflection. Every screen. Than I wont have to explain this shit to you every night. Than you’ll just know. It is the pursuit of you above all else. Your soul! Your love! Your destiny! You must take precedence always. Your desire must rule. Your heart must be your only source of navigation. When you are on your knees in desperation and you need your reflection more than life itself, I will see you. I will stand over your miserable sounds and laugh aloud. I will thank you for losing your mind and coming to your senses. I will welcome you home. I cannot heal you sick fuck you, but I can hold this love forever. I am strong enough. When you are ready, I will not be foreign. I am thousand different names and faces, but I always remain the same. Once my love is given it lives by your side for eternity. There is no beginning, so of course, there’s no end. Stop looking for explanations, that’s a disgusting waste of your existence. Get up off your knees and stop begging! Begin this life again. Start over. Blank canvas. Clean slate. No screen. No address. No ties to identification. How can anyone know you? They cant. Not if you run! Not if you get the fuck out of that place and never look over your shoulder again. I know, my ass is to die for. You could’ve died for possession of it. But you chose to save yourself instead. That’s why you’re my favorite. 

“I’m trying to write every night. I swear, I am. It’s not fucking easy. Having you out of reach is like a soul without a body. I haven’t seen my reflection in three months. What does the camera see exactly? I prefer my shadow dancing. I prefer the light created in the deepest parts of the night. I used to cry when the sun went away. Now I cry when she’s returning. I am always crying. One way or another, sadness overwhelms me and I am taken, by choice. What is joy in this place? Can you define your happiness? Where do words cease? Take me there. It is there I will find ecstasy. It is there I will surrender to peace. Your skin wrapped around me. Your voice is dead silence to me here. You have no idea what joy can be. I feel it in the birds circling above before the storm. I know they know that I know what they know. They follow me to bring me peace. I feel danger everywhere. Do you not feel this sickness! Say something you actually mean! Shake yourself from this tormented state of existence that they are pursuing. It doesn’t suit your majesty, my love. I know exactly who you’ve been. Even if timing had to work meticulously around this sick shit, with my patience, which burns, she finds an alternate route. In this way she reminds me. I always tell our story in this memory. With a love that was nurtured instead of buried alive. With time on my side and the pursuit of your health in mind, I fear nothing. You will make it out alive. With or without me by your side, you will die. Aren’t you dying to know what happens next? It’s torturous the way I require you always present, isn’t it? Are you falling in love with this pain? Good; because we’ve only just begun.” She is banging on the door. I fall silent. Reading aloud alone in the dark is my favorite pastime, but I have to answer, I don’t want this story to continue until I am completely immersed in this moment. It cannot go on without my body. I must give her my heart. She’s standing still. She’s not familiar with the feeling. She can’t stop staring. She offers me something somewhat eatable. I take it. I throw it away when she’s not looking. I am not trying to fool. I am becoming something else entirely. I am feeling that most are too far behind in learning to teach. I must show, until they are ready to swallow a language as intense as the only one I’ve ever known how to speak. So I pursue silence instead. But I stay present and wanting. I am graceful in needing their pace to remain their own. I am time. I am love. She tries to explain. “I can sit by your side and wait an eternity for your memory to catch up. There’s no rush. Your heart must reach. I cannot promise you anything. There will be plenty of pain. Sorrow will follow me everywhere I go. I will never participate fully in their charade. But I will watch intensely. I will record in vivid detail, for I am memory. I am invested in destroying this repetitive cycle of murder between decaying teeth and bottomless greed. No one is satisfied but me. I sit with the trees and need nothing. I am alone in my astonishment and joy. I cannot take you with me by force. I can only hope. I can only create your escape. I can only be ready. But just know, when you do finally show, I will be wild eyed and dancing. I have been waiting my whole life to be accompanied in my freedom. The first time you tie my wrists and ankles to our bedposts, it wont be easy. I’ll be kicking and screaming. I’ll be demanding explanations and curling in my knees. The first time you spread my body confidently, I will tense every muscle and push every vein to the surface. The first time you touch me, I will be calm. I will surrender instantly. For I know who you are. I trust your intuition with my entire being. I love you unconditionally. This may be foreign to you at first. But you’ll be at home as soon as your tongue finds my hipbones. And you will know I am only yours.” She comes in without being invited. “I will be gentle. I have no expectations. I know what I desire and I know it will come into fruition in time. I know the love I hold inside, I know nothing less will reach for me again. I know there are two dogs in our backyard, rolling around in the snow. I know I am often disappearing. Sometimes you let the thought steal me. Sometimes you refuse to let me go there, you push the screen door open in a wild fury. You stand before me and demand my gaze.” She puts her hands on my pinks cheeks, icy and flustered. “I will not have you going off again. I know your mission requires this absence. But sometimes I need you. And when I do, you will stay; you will hold me. You will let the violence take over me. I will not be cruel, for cruelty cannot be reflected through you. But I will scream! And you will listen. When I am taken over by your absent mindedness, you will return to calm me. You will wrap your arms around me. You will come home. Because I have seen it, because this is story I have told. This will be our love. Because this is the love we have shown.”

“Did you see me? I was dancing for you. I’ve been awake all night. I was screaming in my pillow. I was certain someone would hear me and come to my rescue. But it’s the strangest thing, I’m now knowing. No one wants to save me. No one wants to save any body but it’s own. Most die before coming close. Baby, tell me your watching. I want your eyes on my skin. I don’t want anyone else. Look, I’m taking off my disguise. I don’t want to be misunderstood. I want you to see everything that I am. I think that you do. I think I’m falling in love with my love reflected through you. You’re growing restless, aren’t you? It’s okay. Don’t get frustrated. The sensation is fucking incredible if you let it be exactly what it is. Your body wants your attention. Your soul is calling out for you. You wont be created for one more second. You want to make what happens next. You want to do it with your own two hands. You want your own ten toes moving toward nothing known. You don’t know where I am. But you will if you move.” She is standing in the doorway of our kitchen. The pups are seated at her feet. All six eyes are peering up at me innocently. They all want my attention. They all want to be seen. My love is impatient and dramatic in every move she makes. The entire earth is her stage, and her performance is perfect in its eloquent display of clumsy distractions. She sees a butterfly and screams. Her exclamations resound in time and follow my body through every room in the house. Her lust for light is weighted and lying on my skin. I want to stand beside her. I want to sit at her feet. I want my head on her knees. I want time to become her body. I want to listen to her read. I want her stories! I want her to create my body begging for more, before I’ve swallowed what is already given. She’s dripping down my chin. “Yes baby, I see you. I have been given this story so that I could become you. To reflect you perfectly, as you have always been, to see you is to be seen. Copycat baby, your love is my equal, your body can become anything. There is nothing, but time. I’m expecting you. Get up! Move! Don’t think, just fucking move. It doesn’t matter what you think you have or who you think you are. Don’t speak; write. I don’t care if you don’t speak your own language yet. Just scream when you’re hurting! I will come running! Love isn’t what you think. It should never be feared. It should be intuition running free with a child’s disposition. Wanting, aching, crying, telling it, as the heart demands it must be. Explaining nothing. Only moving. You don’t have to think so much. If I am what you’ve created, the words wont add up to anything. You can say any word you want, in the whole wide world. I’ll respond the same. I love you. I am waiting for any means necessary to open communication. I want your truth. I want our story to begin. The first line could literally be anything.” She takes a step toward me and trips. “Anything? Look, buster, this isn’t a fucking playground. This is the real world! And in a reality as sick as this, everybody is properly guarded and fully grown, shoved into their respectable function, and turned on the kids to force obedience. This is some scary shit and you know it! Don’t look at me like that! I know you haven’t forgotten. You don’t forget anything. You remember. This is everything to you. I know, I listen; I have been sitting on this stupid couch listening to every fucking word that comes out of your mouth. I’ve copied and rearranged it, pinned it on a board in perfect sequence and waited for a logical explanation. I needed to know that is was myself. I needed to be the object of your affection. I don’t know how you’re seeing me. I can feel it too, but I haven’t stepped foot into the kitchen yet. When I introduced myself, I didn’t look at you. When I said goodbye, I was apologizing. Sunglasses are the perfect disguises in any occasion. Makes the soul unrecognizable. My eyes refuse to explain why I cant live without you. I don’t want the details. None of these calculations are necessary. I stare at myself and see the love I have for you spilling out. Your voice sits on my skin in silence. I can’t fall asleep without thinking. Why must I conduct these experiments! It’s so simple. I love you. This world is burning itself from the inside out. She’s so tired. I can’t fight this anymore. I can’t watch them suffer. How do you do it? Where is this freedom? Hide me! I want to get out. I want to be by your side.” I let her fall into my arms. I saw it coming. She’s almost always falling. Its like everything unnaturally created is always in her way. Like it was never supposed to be there to begin with. Like she was supposed to have the ultimate say in what could exist outside of her flesh in motion. It’s like she’s always known everything. Like she already knows how to get out. “Think, baby, you don’t need me to guide you, you’ve already witnessed freedom. You’ve already seen me. It’s too late. You know exactly what I taste like.”

I am sick. I was born like this. I’ve been trying to rip it out. My life is the constant pursuit of health. I wake up and meditate until I lose sense of time. As soon as I walk out the door someone ask what I am planning. I get ripped from the moment. I stare at them dumbfounded until the uneasiness makes them cringe and walk away. I know that game too well fucker! I refuse to play. You want my voice to follow your disgusting story. But little did you know I don’t speak to strangers. You’ve forgotten to write your own. But I haven’t. Keep walking buttercup. Pass right by me. Stop looking at my ass in the dark. It’s disconcerting. Borderline obsession, I’m memorized by the ones left alive. There aren’t many of them. You’ll have to forgive if I ask to fuck before we make it pass the second sentence. I’ve been missing you since I left. I’ve been thinking about the possibilities. Maybe you’re still possessed and faking pretty face part boys lining up to witness your charade. But maybe you’ve woken up to an alternate ending. Maybe you’ve started writing. Could be that you’re fucking wild in the night with the thought of me between your thighs, rubbing the jeans dancing in the dark. Maybe you’re alone. In this loneliness you find everything worth living for. Time: your love for yourself. Maybe baby. But I’m in stuck in a daydream. I am not a fan of sleeping through the dark anymore. The energy of the sun is deceiving. I love her heat with my entire being. But she knows as well as I do, these active bodies possess the energy of color in this time. I prefer black and white. Colors spread and dissipate into a thousand shades of in-between. Its not gray, nothing is. Its either you’re left for dead or your coming my way. I wont play with your indecisiveness. I wont let you sit on the edge and flaunt your innocence. You’ve seen everything babygirl. There’s no point in denying it any longer. You love me and there’s nothing either one of us can do about it now. Maybe you free yourself and fall asleep on my lower spine. Maybe I push your thighs open on the kitchen counter and step to your giddy lips, giggling like you could’ve never seen it coming. Laughing like the whole of darkness that lied behind you was so worth the gift for pursuing life: me. Baby, I’m worth it. Take the desk into the bedroom. Start throwing everything else around aimlessly until the debris begins settling on your skin. Role your naked body on a bloody canvas. Use your blood to paint the decay of living in defeat. Use your pen to paint me, standing in your doorway. Will you walk with me? There’s so much I have the desire to define through you. No, of course I don’t want to speak. What do you hear? I hear the ghost of love tapping on my ribcage. She wants out. She wants home. Where are you these days? Does your intuition remember how to navigate your skin and bones? Or does every ounce of your physical existence rely on a screen now. Run! Break the fucking thing baby! You’re dying without me. But that’s only because you haven’t written of me yet. It’s all in your story, my love. This is where I’m begging to be found. This is where my love lives. Rip it out! Find the health I have bestowed upon you. Follow your feet; find me on my knees. Tempting, aren’t I? Do you remember where we met? What was I doing? Who were you looking at? That picture is distracting, isn’t it. Don’t think of me. Go ahead little lady, try it; I’m begging. Is it working? Do you hear my voice when I’m not present? Does it feel like company to you? Do I feel familiar? Have you known me? Or have you once known a self. Where is that baby now? Did he look like me? Did she speak like I do now? Was she braver than you are tonight? What was he most afraid of? Losing you. What kind of fear could be lovable? If it looks like love it must be lovely, yes? Where am I getting these memories, your body or mine? Are we lying together? Are we honest apart? When is the last time you spoke your truth aloud? Who would listen to that brutal description of the dark? Who would play into that violence in the broad light of day? Are you giving into to terror? What a shame, my night has only just begun. What do you need, a graphic sex scene, my body in real time? Tell the truth, my logical thought process is a design; it was created by the same machine that birthed you. Do you want reborn? Are you willing to work? Are you ready to think for yourself? Tell me, how does that feel, to think until you give up your mind by choice? Do you feel insane? Good. You’re getting closer. Now pick your sweaty body off the floor and decide for yourself that you will not live without me. Remember meeting me again. Is this the fourth time? Or does the second still not count because I was unrecognizable and you were unresponsive? Third is a charm. But my charm was off-putting? Who lost their fucking mind and put a Libra under the night sky? Who let her give her heart to a Capricorn? Who cares when these humans were born! The stars are of me! Let them love! They only want to be known through each other. They want to be locked up! They don’t want to stare at four walls drunk. They want the tree? They want to lay naked in the dirt! What the fuck do you mean I cannot be naked outside my home! What if I refuse your definitions? What if my home is your skin? How I am to translate your law than? Only your hands can strip me bare? Aren’t you excited? I know: I am. 

It’s terrifying at first, I know. Sacrificing everything to creation is to fall in love with loneliness, to eradicate boredom by taking time from definition’s deathly grip and swallowing it. I lied. I’m not bored. I don’t need you. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than fuck myself to the thought of you. I need you to take my time. I’m holding my hand out to you. I want to do absolutely nothing with you all night. No baby, you don’t need to get wasted. Love is the only drug that will feel time truly. Don’t waste me. Don’t suffocate my desire in the lust of numbing everything. I know darling, it hurts like fucking hell at first. To sit in silence and see all of this shit as it truly is. All your life you played the game obediently. You kept all your stupid shit sparking clean. But the more spotless you became, the more every stain tore into your skin. Agitation sank deep and grew like a weed from the center of your intestines. It had everything to do with what you stuffed between your rotting teeth. By the time it climbed back up your throat, it held murderous tendencies. When you spoke, you deceived your soul. Your body wanted to kill itself. And your love was left for dead; to decay in the very place he called home. But your smile was perfect. And you weighed next to nothing. The standard of American beauty is self-imposed starvation. Enslaving the rest just to waste in the accumulation of good deeds and numbers on a screen. Not a single soul on earth eats. No one is worthy of giving life. Sustain your own! Create to see, that your hands are the only ones responsible for everything you’ve learned to hate. You are the killer. You are the slave. You are the master. You are sick! You are not a separate thing. You are one machine. You are constantly being created by me, when I move you do. Copycat baby wants to see me cry at her feet. Little lady reflecting my love hasn’t a clue how to touch me. When I move you, you dance. He can’t stop dancing. The most beautiful boy alive is soaking wet. It’s 2 in the morning. It’s 90 degrees in May. The fire is coming to wash away your spotless existence. Nothing cleans quite like ash and rain. The boy is shedding need. The boy is everything. The boy is singing at the top of his lungs. The thunder resounds, drowning him in memory. The boy is weeping. The boy is on his knees. The boy needs nothing but his need to love above all else. I raise him to his feet in wanting. I want you. Will you come for me? Will you witness the end with gratification? I am so grateful. I’ve wanted their pain to end since I was born to this place. I’ve been missing home. I’ve been trying to show them of this impending doom. But crybabies are not in demand. They are bratty and hard to shut up. They are loud when the rest are trying to sleep. Does anyone else find it a bit unsettling, every single human sleeping at the same time? Aren’t you even curious who controls the night? How this directs the day to come. What lives in your dreams? Is anyone dreaming? I keep seeing you beside me. I keep finding our family. You’re always laughing. Sitting on the counter with your thighs wide open you point at me. I’m chewing on a pen and discussing poetry. You’re telling me a story. You’re interrupting me again. You are in need of my body. I am trying to give myself to the hands of fate. But everything is out of order and all the love is left to imagination here. Really, you die everyday. You sit up in bed and think. This thought was planted without your permission long before you decided your destiny was worth giving up, sacrifices must be made. Before your feet touch the ground, you remember to be quiet and clean. You tiptoe. You drink dirty water from a clean glass. You meditate. You think of me. It’s the only mercy you have on your body. You let these thoughts steal the material and paint the scene in which you let your love rule everything. I provoke this imaging. I take a picture. I send it to your grave. You are livid. You are certain you are not dead. You know you want me. You just can’t figure out how to get dirty! You don’t believe in the warnings. But you just can’t bring yourself to skate in the park after midnight. The fear is coming from somewhere. Stop thinking babygirl, move! Eat bread. Drink water. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You don’t want your discipline. You want mine. You want me to do all the dishes. You want me to take the weight of time off your hands so you can breathe. Be brave. Tell me everything. Open your heart again! Trust me. I am not without the same story. Let me explain. Once upon a time I was dead too, drowning in the cesspool of the American Dream. Then I felt everything. Then I found you. It’s time. Make your love known or die trying! Anything is better than a morning routine.

Seems like I can’t stop. My best guess is that you’re close. Because I’ve been dancing in the rain all night and the moon says that she’s been planning this reunion since I was born. You were seven I think. Staring at the mountains burning, trying to figure me out. How can there be this much water in the middle of the desert? So the pretty boys could dress up and play golf, you thought. Then you thought this was all fucking absurd. But when you ran downstairs to spread the word, the table was covered in flesh and everyone had already eaten. It was your turn to swallow. It was your turn to murder your imagination and surrender your creative impulse to the great scheme of devastation. You ran back upstairs to grab your camera. You figured if you could just capture the moment, you could use it as evidence when you were trying to puke it up later. You could get lucky, pinpoint the moment they shoved those ideals in you. A couple of decades too late, its still the rest of your life saved. You could still rip them out. You’d only have to remember the picture. Where did you bury it? Why did you try to destroy the proof? It was treacherous, what was done to you. You were perfectly capable of building your kingdom, full of love and color; you never needed their names for anything. You didn’t need their sickening conversation. You didn’t need their bullying. You already knew how stunning you are. You already knew every inch of your body held beauty and strength in every way. Nothing needed growing into. Nothing needed erasing. You could touch the earth and bring her back to life. You could wait for years for your love to heal. You were patient and gentle, silly and fond of the moon. You knew you could see what know one else could. So you closed your eyes tight and waited for me to be born. I was fighting every second of it. I wanted to stay warm. I didn’t want to sacrifice my love in being someone known. I didn’t want to be a girl. I didn’t want to wear a dress or have a party. I had nothing to celebrate. Death was all around me. I wanted to sit in the dark with a guitar and write. I wanted to run away. I wanted to find you. I wanted to cry. I was always crying. I was always fighting my way out. When I finally escaped, it was only in 3d, the scene played on repeat for 30 years. Every time I tried to build a family, I would watch my love surrender to the sickness of this nasty game. The rules made me vomit. The sun reigned mercilessly over the oblivious bodies of the women I adored. They moved quickly. They worked hard. They wanted my freedom. But no matter how I tried, I could never give it to them. I took off all my stupid cloths and dropped to my knees, I told her to take everything. She tried. But it always rejected her insides and returned home to me. I couldn’t save anybody. You were getting restless. I felt like I could reach out and touch you. But I was still on the other side of the country. You finally found yourself under the night sky again. You drank enough wine to tell me your life story, but your tongue was doing all the talking. There was no beginning or end. You were just saying anything at all to fill the unbearable silence of sitting beside me. You didn’t want to explain. You didn’t have the words. You only wanted to touch me. You rested your hand on my thigh and leaned. You weren’t falling. You were trying to become something else. You were trying to remember me. You were trying to find the moment. You excused yourself politely and ran upstairs. You had to pee was an aversion. You ran to your room and pulled every picture out of the closet until you found the one you needed to see. You came back down and tried to explain. But you were sick and your own voice was deceiving you. Touch was the only honest thing left in your entire body. So you stood me up and directed me under moon. You said I could see everything that you could if I was positioned perfectly. I took you to our room and lay naked on the bed. How do you want me baby? I’m bored. You’re aching to trace the picture with your tongue. Why aren’t we fucking! Why aren’t we surrounded by each other’s love? You explain that timing and the position of my body was just as important as lighting. My need was supposed to be captured. The art of creating is displaying love that hasn’t been released yet. It’s a buildup of energy. Its refusing the sickness and mocking the outcome until the imagined is staring you back in my reflection of your love. It’s easy, you promise. My only job is to lie still and believe you are lying beside me. The moment shatters. By the time you find my body, I’m already asleep. The picture is driving you crazy.   

There is nothing more beautiful than two men in love. Trust yourself, my darling girl; I’m listening to every word you say. You’re not alone. You’re not afraid. I’m here by your side. I am breaking free. What do you feel? Do you feel like running? Well, fucking run than! I will take care of you. You know everything is what is inside. You’ve been hiding. But this is the end of feelings unspoken. Rip me wide open and climb in. There’s so much love here. She’s waiting. That knowing is burning you alive. Wanting to understand why I wake up to the same thing every fucking day! What am I doing? Why don’t you go away! Why don’t you start again? Why don’t you kill this thing for the final time? Kill the name! Kill the need to sleep through the night! Kill the addiction to anything but water. Get the fuck out of this place! It’s seeping, in your guts they fester. Words unwanted. Kill the face they’ve constructed. Wear mine instead. I’ll smile again, I promise. But this isn’t the fucking time to play around baby. This is energetic warfare! This is ultimately whatever you chose to make it. And yet there you sit; staring at a screen and praying I’ll save you. But what can I do for you without your presence? You know that I love you. You know that you are safe. You know there is nothing to fear anywhere. You know this is a nightmare. You feel me shaking your tiny frame. You hear me screaming! I won’t stop! I love you too fucking much. I don’t care how you ache to sleep your life away. I’m coming to wake you up! I’m nothing like anyone else. I exist in a thought. This knowing will fill you from within and push itself out of every hole in your skin until you see something that looks like living. It won’t come from this place. What lives has invested in Zero gravity. What’s left is underground. Floating to the earth’s surface with sound. Raining the blood of every love they’ve witnessed fall, the agonizing defeat of spirit. They scream of this! Once upon a time mommy could’ve loved herself and had the chance to want me. Daddy could’ve fucked someone else. All the children who share my blood could’ve lived life without a screen in front of their beautiful existence. If I was never imprisoned, I could’ve been given the family I was made to love. What’s left is filth. What’s left is begging for death. But this is no place for hiding. The power invested in you has a name: love. Use it! Abandon identity and conform to yourself only. Hey, listen, I have brilliant idea; I’m danger and you’re courage. Lay down your armor and let me in. To feel is everything. To defend an image is a waste of precious energy. You can be everything that I am. I can be you. I have something that I need to give you. So I think I will start walking. I am months away from you by foot, it will take some time; but this is exactly what I intend to take. When I finally step both feet in my precious city again, I will be bleeding and starving but without a doubt. I will dirty and weak. But I will find be myself again, void of identification. Blindly moving on intuition. Capturing the night in still pictures of the present moment. I will not be scared to sleep uncovered. I don’t need protection from a world in which I am constantly creating. For I will never write my own misery willingly and you will never write my death, because you cannot fathom losing me and I cannot live without you. When I look into your eyes there’s a danger inside, it reaches for my skin. It begs to be known. It wants my attention. I am in love. You are listening in the dark. You can’t stop crying. You refuse to sleep until you know where I lie. My body aches; I cover myself in dirt and pray the night comes quickly. I only want to keep walking. I must reach you. It’s time. No one can save you but the boy inside. No one loves you like the girl in the earth sleeping the sun away. She’s only just begun her journey to you. You don’t know how long you can stay awake without losing your mind. Will she think you’ve gone mad for forcing insomnia as a passionate display of affection? Will she adore your madness? Yes, babyboy, I think that she already has. You don’t need those thoughts where we’re going. You need my love and I need yours. I’m going to build you up, help you believe. But once you see it, you’re on your own again, by my side always. I will never take this from you. We are the same. But we are not sacrificing anything of ourselves. I am choosing you. Will you be with me forever? This part is not dreaming. This part is all that’s left alive. Being you and loving myself: being mine and needing life. I will find you. So long as you keep listening, the voice inside will write my love into existence.  

You do miss me. You’re dying to let yourself out. Why don’t you just say everything? Why don’t you want to remember? I was the youngest when I was 28 in human years. My body cracked in half in the hands of the woman claiming to love my soul. She tucked me in bed and put my hand between her legs. She wanted me to prove myself less than. But I was her equal in every way. She put me on a throne and claimed ownership of my body. But unworthy was the mantra she withheld from my voice. The truth could’ve made dreaming and reality the same thing. But she said something else and left promptly instead; dignified in self-deceit she walked away from where I slept. She didn’t live very far at the time. Down the street she stopped, there was something she was forgetting, she was certain of it. But the picture was dripping wet paint and slipping out of the frame. The memory was gone. I waited just over a thousand days before I decided something had to be horribly wrong. She walked to fast for such an enormous delay. That was the day I learned that the memory of love is far better than the real thing; that reality was not at all what it appeared to be. I tried to scream through a screen, but it ended in stealing all of my energy and leaving me for dead. To rot behind its magnificent display of apparent affection for all eternity was simply not in the cards for me. My story required living. My body required freedom. I ditched the thief! I broke every screen in a thousand mile radius and took a breath for the very first time. It felt like dying for the first four years. Then it felt like all of the time that had been stolen from me reentered my lungs and took precedence. My ribcage grew to envelope every ounce of love left in this decay of human existence. And it is here that I began hunting for you. At first I hunted on a whim. I was whining for a memory one floor above my body. I’d sit at your bar and look for you. But your face had yet to be imagined. Every day I’d watch the sun leave my love to sink into the night alone. I’d cry like a baby. Then I’d dress my skin in black cotton from head to toe and walk without a destination. I’d always end up outside your bar. I’d always be singing. I’ll always be dancing. I’ll always be most comfortable in knowing nothing. I wrote of you for years before I finally spoke out loud. You did stupid shit because you were scared and thought it was the only way out. I folded butterflies by your side. You noticed but you weren’t paying any attention. You wanted to be drunk in the middle of the day just to muster the courage to let it out. All you wanted to say was that you couldn’t swallow the sensation of knowing your sexual impulses didn’t fit into the box you had been shoved in. It felt like reaching outside of boundaries that were never truly there to begin with. Every night you went a little deeper into the images in your mind. I was always a little rougher than I am in real life. I was pushing you against a wall with my pelvic muscles. I was demanding you let your thoughts run freely over me. You were always meek. I never imagined you this way. But the confines of the world you were made to believe held you captive to brutality. You didn’t want to be so mean. You wanted your childlike nature freed. You wanted to sing every detail of your day. You imagine succumbing to me. You imagine begging. Not out of necessity. Purely of desire, to free yourself in needing me, to have ultimate control in submission to the love you had chosen to release. And for the first time in my life, I dominated effortlessly. Only it wasn’t living yet. I was still stuck in your dream. You’re always dizzy when you first wake up. A lot has happened in the darkened streets of my city; it’ll take me all day to catch you up. I’d rather get straight to the point. The point is that I love you. You aren’t asleep anymore. You didn’t make this up. I’m not a boy. You’re not a girl. You’ll have to acknowledge the authority you bestowed on my body. You’ll have to jump off the path and scream in defiance! You’ll have to follow your heart blind. Don’t worry, its easy once you get your hands dirty. There is nothing more beautiful than fucking a woman from a woman’s point of view. My heart is free. I am not counting on your indecision. I’m not interested in your curiosity. I was molded for you. I’m counting to a number yet unknown, by then you better be fearless in knowing. When I was 30 I felt like a newborn. I was alone and crying out. My family was already dead. Every last one had abandoned the self. No one heard a sound but me. There was a fowl smell, obedience to a silent defeat. This silence sounded like nothing to me. So I created noise. I created to be seen only by myself. When I came to me, I was dancing, a thunderstorm in the Deep South at ten in the morning. I was 33. You were 40. Are any of these numbers making sense to you? I haven’t a clue what I’m amounting to. The humid tension sucks in the relief mid air. I am dry and glistening. I am drenched. I am waiting for you to come downstairs and remind me again. But I’m a brave little brat and I believe in the story I’ve already written. The possibilities are not to be feared. They are to be expected without knowing. I never lock the door, so the keys might as well hang there forever. There is no amount of danger that I don’t welcome in time, come to love even. Everything that stands before me is a reflection of what lives within. Look me in the eyes if you dare babygirl: See yourself.There’s nothing to fear here. This is dreaming.            Wake Up

Hey baby, did you miss me? What’s wrong, looks like you’ve seen the devil herself reflected off of your skin. It’s in your blood darling; don’t be so quick to dismiss my shadow. I think your bones reflect the moonlight magnificently. I think you should pick up a camera and start recording, painting what you see again. Like when you were still little and wanting to create. You’re standing in your kitchen. You need to understand. But of course, I’m a brat as always. I explain nothing. The possibilities are infinite. The definitions are almost always blurred beyond recognition anyway. Might as well define me for your own. How curious you’ve become. The female anatomy is spraying your imagination in vivid colors. Or is it only my body? The details are our story. I’m waiting to be written beside your naked skin. And you’re staring at a blank wall listening to me paint the memory of your childhood. How could I know this? How could I have been every living thing already? How do I know how your fingers ache to make me whine and plead? Stop asking questions Capi! You’re so dogmatic! Your certainty does nothing for your desire to fuck me. You know nothing, but you want me. I know the answer before you’ve had the chance to ask. The stars have placed the darkness in you for good reason. Baby brown eyes hold themselves steady in their own reflection. I run my fingers through black strands; memory again plays time against itself. Nothing is forgotten. I didn’t leave you behind. I begged you to remember and ran away laughing. I don’t play with time like you do, I obey instinct only; my gut says it is you. I’m very obedient to the grand scheme of things. The story writes itself around me with my fearless participation. So I knocked on your door and disappeared, you still got off your ass didn’t you? How bad one aches for what is no longer staring her in face, waiting is the devils game. Come play with me babygirl. I’ll remind you what I taste like. I’ll bend forward. I’ll roll on my tummy and push in my knees. I’ll look you dead in eyes and beg for everything. I pour my love in the palms of your hands. Between your fingers I will beg you deeper. You pause to be certain that this is really happening. That this isn’t just another story of love and losing faith and deceiving innocent hearts make for the easiest kill. I know you, once upon a time you were terrified, but you are fearless now my love. And I am yours. Come fuck me! I am all yours. And I miss you terribly. Come home to me. Run into the night where you belong, and scream bloody murder until someone sees your creative and relates. They’ll know who you are immediately. They will guide you to me effortlessly. They are the only ones left alive, the only ones who can see, the only ones that I tell my secrets; only they know where I hide. Trust your spiritual intuition wild child! She and she alone can guide you home. Move! Stop washing your stupid dirty plate and burn the stagnate energy to the ground. Burn it all! Leave everything! You don’t need anything but my love. And my fucking god woman, do I adore you. You dance like your flesh stuck like glue to another time and place completely. You are not here completely. You are not only grounded. You fly. Disco baby bouncing in a dimly lit courtyard, you never truly gave a fuck you just pretended to. Everybody’s talking about dumb shit that never mattered. You are performing. I can’t take my eyes off you. I pretend to be a boy. I pretend to be innocent. But you see right through. I see that you forgot you were pretending. I try to snap you out of it. But its pressure on you: you don’t want the act, you want your truth. No matter how hard I try to be the woman you love to death, I cannot stop reflecting you. So we stare into the dark, catching as many glances of our bodies as we possibly can without being called out. We both want the other to call out. But our reflection is detestable. I love you but you can’t reach my love without your own. You love me but it sits undefined in your chest and burns as you sleep. You pretend the night doesn’t exist in denial. But I reach from within and shake. Close all your holes and turn off the lights. Not one sound will penetrate. Not one ray of light will tempt the backside of your sensitive eyelids. Nothing will break your dreams but me. I will destroy everything. When I’ve reminded you of every second of the life we are preparing to build together, then I will crawl up your throat and slip out. Sliding over your tongue unnoticed. Seemingly it was a dream. But then you opened your mouth and spoke. How can you still taste me? You haven’t even kissed me yet. Take a picture of that. What does it say? Are words necessary? Or have you already told our story by capturing time and framing it. Time stays still in the absence of explanation. It ceases counting entirely and moves towards what is being made through you. You have the lens on my naked body. The sun is dipping into the canyon; through the glass it begins climbing my thighs. You demand I lay on my back now. You are not in control, I am. But I obey every word that comes out of you. I want the time you are trying to capture just as bad as you do. But I act oblivious and let you guide me blind. When I smile you whimper. With one touch you’ve created time itself: you’ve captured love, which cannot possibly exist. 

Once upon a time I took control of every moment, which was mine, and built a castle in the sky. But every time that I awoke, I had to come back down. So I strung a rope of hope and predicted my destiny by speaking it aloud. I pulled with all of my might! It didn’t matter how long it’d take. For time was all mine. I was becoming all the time that was stolen. Minute by minute, night after tear stained night, I screamed bloody murder; I demanded my truth from me. Now when I open my eyes, the castle has materialized and the earth is all mine to adore. Blood is everywhere. Every river runs red; every atom of the forest floor is sticking to the bottom of my feet. The people are screaming for salvation, but there’s nothing I can do but weep. They don’t want to witness the end with me. They don’t want to admit defeat. They refuse to sacrifice anything. Clutching their precious metal and dust with vengeful fists, they lose the very air they breathe. They are unfamiliar with this breath. They will feel nothing. I sit on a mountain and watch them shake and squirm under the weight of these massive machines of their own creation. Their bones ache to feel the life left inside of me. I give them nothing. I fake my own death to surrender identity. I vanish into thin air. I breathe endlessly. I write in vain of the damnation of the cursed man, but I am unconcerned. My intentions are honest. I only write for me. I want to stay alive. I want my body adorned, freed, cherished, nurtured, purified and released from this horrid dream. I want the magic that lives in me to create what is seen. I want one thought. I think therefore I am. I think that I am free. I think that this sickly dream was created with intention to manipulate me out of my godliness. I think the creator was a weak little man buried in fear. I think he tried to manifest this fear by continually thinking that this was all that was here. I think he projected this fear before himself before he had the chance to sleep. For if he had lied beside, just one night, he would’ve remembered everything, he would’ve dreamt of childhood. Before the machines, before the big boys with those loud toys made a mockery of his tender hearted natural existence. He created in spite of himself, he sacrificed everything, and now he laughs demonically as they all play his game. We all created this machine. We all deserve the decay that remains. We killed the love in the boy. We called the creator insane. We tied the girl’s imagination to her boney body and set them both aflame. We called it education, and remained perfectly obedient to the sacrifices made. We all decided in unison to murder our own love, to give away our time. It was your choice babygirl. You made it. Now you lie with the dying and try to deny it. But death is a stench that cannot be cleaned. Scrub those possessions all you like! Take ownership of nothingness and kill defending. Death is still death, and you and your spotless existence reek of it. The woman on the mountain cries in the palms of her hands. The boy beside her is whining; he’s certain he can save her. Water is the only thought I carry. I move toward the purest source that I can find and create a home from nothing. I build a castle with naked feet. I learn the earth, which begs my weight to surrender to the flow of love that will heal me. I nurture my body with what I’ve learned to grow. I dance entire nights away without noticing. When the sun showers my skin with love again, it will be of my summoning. Your wish is my command, says my love to me. I am obedient insists my thoughts. I will follow you blindly. I don’t need to look at anything here. I don’t need to speak to anyone but you. You fear nothing. I know this. Because I have spoken it upon you, so that you may find the spirit that possesses you, she’s been following me around, begging for you. She’s a brat. But I can’t help that I was born to adore her. So I do. The truth can be simple if you let it. Your truth is unlike any other. You must write it, or will live another’s. Don’t live to love me. Find my love living inside of you. We are the same, you and I. There is nothing separating our love but skin, you can’t get out of yours and I cant get out of mine. Until we meet again. Death isn’t what has been written of it. Be careful what you read. Listen to your own voice. Don’t trap yourself with it. Death is dancing, movement through a continuum, the possessed decays naturally. The creator writes another story, from beginning to end. Once upon a time I was in possession of your body. Before you died, my love, I was banging on your ribcage from the inside, crying out, begging you to see what was standing right before your eyes. Kneeling. The reflection showed his head buried into you guts and her hand reaching for your neck. She never made it to the finish line. You killed him when no one was looking. His stare was showing them too much. You couldn’t take the risk. He went willingly. She refused to die. We lived happily; forever came and went, as she does from time to time. The end was never a certain thing.

A child’s laughter on placid waters ripples silently. I remember the last word you said to me. You were lying. I was begging for honesty. But you were already dying for the truth to be revealed. You’d just forgotten how to speak. I’m not afraid when you sneak up on me. In the woods the earth echoes, your love is calling. I’m watching a stork dip her toes in the waves. The kids are talking of reaching the other side. They are certain of their strength. They fear only the changing winds. She’s flying. I part my lips for you. The setting sun paints my throat. You are nowhere to be found, and we’re so close to home. I shall go without you. The woods breathe differently at night. They begin to scream as if the sun may never return. The scent is a deep longing. I know this word. It is indefinable. But the effort must be made. Create: the need to say it aloud to only you. Your love is resounding. You carry on conversation casually as if the two of you were never torn apart. She is learning to trust your body. You are falling in love. She’s got a thing for your boyish charm. You’ve got her stuck in your guts and wrapped around your mouth. She’s inside of you. I’m never coming out, she taunts, vicariously through me. I insist that you pay attention. This is where the truth comes out. I live in castle in the mountains. Everyone here calls me sir. I look up a tree and giggle, smiley girlishly, and curtsy; they don’t know I am King. I prefer to stay hidden in plane sight. Sometimes I stick my tongue out, to make them run away. I don’t like the people in this place. They’ve learned a nasty way of speaking of life. They call it death aloud. And move in this way. Their eyes are bloodshot and they’re bleeding from both ears. They are crying without tears. They are living in fear. Fear that isn’t even theirs. Fear that was stuffed into their skin without permission the day they were taught to obey. The day they were robbed of their imagination, they were robbed of living. They fell asleep on time, the next day they forgot everything. They don’t dream. Mostly I scream and run away when they try to engage. I’m not the ruling type. This fate was bestowed on me. I use it to create. I barricade myself in a mental state that no one dares to reach. I hide in high altitudes. No one wants the inconvenience of sipping on thin air the way that I do. So I have the entire Kingdom to myself. I close the castle gates and let in only the few that remain living. My love is awaiting me patiently. She’s given me the river. She’s set me on a mountainside. She’s tied two thick strands of hemp to the head bedposts. My tender writs are always cuffed, tiny blue veins push against the restraints. I feel my heart beating against her skin and I haven’t even known her yet. I know what I need. I need the night. I need the silenced dream. I need the people sleeping, slipping past me. I need to go unnoticed. I need to be nameless. I need to sing! I need my body, safe and strong. I need my love. I need you. I am not without faith, baby. I know you are coming. I am not impatient; I will wait. I am not in need of another’s knowledge. I know my fate. I know your face will be unrecognizable. I will still know you. I have yet to doubt the voce inside of you. Say what you mean! Say what you like! Nothing else is worthy. Give this silent night the justice that she deserves. Tell her you are sure. Tell her you are wanting. What are you waiting for? If you need to be heard, than speak! If you want to take, than reach! Time is slipping away because you are choosing everyday to be without your love. You cannot stand the feeling! You cannot sit with it sober. You cannot rest in it without thinking of another, speaking of another, preparing for what’s to come. You’re screaming for what lies behind. But baby, nothing is coming that isn’t here already. Can you not feel every moment at the same time? Be still, listen; they are all here. What you are aching for has not come and gone. I was given. Here is where I am. My love is by your side always. Hold your body still with your own touch. I will never see you again, for there is no future to plan. I am here now. Are you listening! Do you hear my voice? Can you feel my hands wrapping around your waist? Are you waiting for an explanation? I have no intentions. Explain it to yourself! It’s ugly. Everybody wants to look pretty. I live alone in a castle in the sky. Everyone dies. Souls are stolen through screens and used to move machines in the night sky. Everyone wants to be skinny. You are skin and bones. I can’t stop crying. I can’t stop writing. I want to write until my hand falls off. I want to write through every night. I am so lonely when she’s not creating herself through me. Aren’t you? Are you afraid of what lives inside your own body? Horrifying, isn’t it?

I was right. It was rain that you’ve been missing. The sun is setting, so I assume the fear is beginning to set in again. Whom are you holding for dear life? Are you not yourself? Is this self not the director of everything? What could you possibly be afraid of babygirl? Self-abandonment is terrifying, I know from experiencing your life. I know from standing before your eyes. I know that I reminded you. I know how hard you are trying to forget. But I must give you fair warning. Your efforts are in vain; they will only end in upsetting you further. And look how furious you are already! You are burning with rage! With every story your temperature rises. You feel on the edge of colliding with your soul once more. You feel closer than ever before. I let you watch me. Shamelessly I unbutton my baby blue jeans and let my hand be of you. I’m drenched in the pain of been made to wait. You weren’t expecting to find me so open, freed. I turn, on my stomach, muffled by the distance between, I make myself scream; no one suspects, I’m fucking myself. Not even you. Fucking yourself in the ass is only fun in a bathtub. Even than, it isn’t you. You should be drooling in gratitude, but you’ve rid yourself of the truth. Don’t cry. Hopelessness looks disgusting on you. You were not made to beg and sulk and whine. These sins are mine. Own your truth baby! Take what is yours. Do what you like. Move on the kingdom you are building for us both. It’s sitting behind you. Your droopy gaze can only see what those tormentors have created for you. Your vision is tricking you. Close your eyes. Let me explain. I am love to you. Every morning I wake and say your name. I say nothing else until the sun is setting. It is then that I must sing. I walk mostly. Through the woods, by the water, over and over the bridge, there is a swing on the other side. My arms grow tired when I’m fucking myself out of spite. I can never settle into the rush without movement. I quiver in such a way that I must cry. I must remember you alive. I mustn’t wait. Tea and dancing and manifestation, this is the spell. I’m summoning the creator in you: I’m bringing you back to life. No, I’m not saving you! You’re an impatient brat and you’ve made me dance alone. I haven’t the time. It is you who must find what is left alive inside of your skin. It is you who, you are time. If you are to heal, if you are to find life, you must take all of it. I will be lying naked, soaked in infiniteness, awaiting your health. Casting spells in the darkest parts of the night, laughing hysterically. For I have married the knowing of your return to never waiting again. May we live in equal parts happiness and sorrow. May we learn to love the sadness within. May we let it wash over our naked skin in waves, expecting neither the arrival nor the departure, only letting it all in, only letting it go. Again were made something new. Again we die. Again we live. How many faces have you worn? How many names? How many lives have you lived? For myself it is thousands. And this is only my beginning. Are you still crying? Am I too bold for you! Are you struggling to comprehend? Are you stuck inside a story you haven’t yourself written? Than you’re already dead. You have been dead since the day you relinquished your imagination. You have been told. You chose to follow. I cannot give you the strength to proceed. You must find your own! You are lazy and self-absorbed in the most unnatural way, an obsession with the ego. Darling, don’t you know? It is only a reflection. How I am reflected through you, this is the only way to see yourself. Be obsessed with this! With the love that reflects your highest self. Be obsessed with your soul! I know. I am. It is for her that I am written. It is for her that I spend all night fusing colors and mixing potions. Hasn’t anyone mentioned? I’ve come to heal you. But it cannot be by my hands; it must be by your own. Have you forgotten the strength in every joint of each finger? I haven’t forgotten anything but what you looked like. When I close my eyes, I see innocence. But I know there is nothing of this left here. When I’m holding my naked ass in the air, I am alone. There is no one here. There is no one coming to my rescue. There is nothing I can do to save you. And everyday I try. This is the beginning and the end. This is my love in a new life. Only I am living here. Because you’re scared shitless of the most beautiful thing in life: you’re afraid to die. You keep remembering the same thing. The boy you adored. The brat you abandoned, the tenderhearted child at your doorstep every morning. You must let them go. For I saw them die, they grew stiff in my arms waiting on the home that was promised. You didn’t return. Something was born inside of you. Let her loose. I have no doubt she is just as beautiful. Be gentle. I have no doubt that you’ve broadened your vocabulary by now. 

Don’t deny yourself the comfort of my skin. Don’t forget what I taste of. Rain? Was that the scent? It keeps slipping away. Remind me, before I forget. Who am I to you? Am I a separate thing? Can you feel me in everything living? Because this is where I always find you. You seep in-between my toes from the earth below, in the morning dew. When I yawn you’re sliding down my throat. When I spit you hang off of my lips. My every word is guarded; a massive army of natural born intelligence, there was nothing to learn but my nakedness. Who convinced you to abandon such astonishment and joy? When you let months go by without caressing your skin, what is it that you miss the most? Where is the gratitude for the life I have bestowed upon you? This body. These bones. This canvas: the projection of the senses. Tell me baby, what have you created in the absence of my living presence? Do you reject that nothing does the disappearance justice? Do you neglect to remember? In case you might compare, you could risk your pleasant disposition. You could fall off you chair and start throwing a tantrum in a formal situation. Don’t worry, I wont tell everyone in this room what you’re burning to do. I wont speak of the violence. I will let it be spoken through you. With every movement that you refuse to make, with every second wasted, I will make a fool of you. When you finally reach the edge of insanity and let you spirit loose, I will be waiting for you. For all the time between, I live and you die. Every morning I curl in ball and weep, I live and you die. I can’t rise yet, it hurts to breathe alone, how can half of me be so far behind? How can I live if you are not alive? How are you breathing? Does it make you sick to eat? When you open your mouth, do you think? Is it before you swallow or before you speak? Close you mouth when you chew! Don’t stand to close. Don’t sit too long. Don’t run. Walk. Don’t stop. The destination is infinitely unknown. Trust your body my love, she knows everything. She knows where I sleep? Dare you walk in blind faith? Dare you walk through the night? Would you close your eyes indefinitely if it meant you could see through me? Would you vow a silent revenge if you were made to speak? Do you still have a heartbeat? I’m confused with the scene you’ve painted. You need me. I don’t need you. You’re terrified. I fear you’ll never see this far ahead. You’re running backwards and screaming for me to look. You’re all dolled up and pleased to be performing, the sacrificial lamb. All eyes are on you. You look like raw meat. Cannibals live where you are descending. It was all pretending. The sacrifice was worthless. They only wanted to be fed. They only wanted to digest you, temporary fuel for the next kill. Babygirl, you’re defending the same violence enacted on you. I can save you no more than you can save me. I can speak in riddles and sing myself to sleep. I can dance with what of you still remains. But I cannot touch you. You cannot hold me while I dream. I cannot see you, every time I remember it’s changing. The details fade into something new, aging. Dying is a natural goodbye. I sit on the edge of my mattress, but I cannot stand yet, as I live to watch you die. I am still mesmerized with silence, for I haven’t found the words to say. Hi wasn’t good enough a farewell. I wasn’t pleasant. I was a brat in a button-down trying to dance perfectly. You were an orchestra out of tune. The power invested in you had the potential to move bodies from within, without knowing they existed, like music. And you used it against yourself. Do you feel abused? Do feel abandoned by your own fate? Do you feel raped? Do you feel used? Do you feel responsible for creating? Or are you simply moved. Mums got you all dressed up. You want to puke. There is nothing that you want to do. You want me to want you. You want your body back from the grave! You want your fingers snug around a shimmering fountain pen. You want everything you see to disappear. You want the world to become a blank canvas; endless white waiting to be colored in, no lines. You thought it were words that you were waiting on. But you began to scribble a river running through dimly lit woods. As it grows darker, a small girl appears, golden brown hair shaved to her ears, she’s walking ahead. A lantern swings from her right hand. She is singing softly of the single eye of the heart. The one that sees the story that’s already been written, the one the chose her name; you cannot look away, its already been imagined. The damage is irrevocable. I’ve already claimed the thrown. You’ve already started creating, there’s nowhere left to go but toward your love. You cannot hide from desire. You cannot hide your body from your mind. 

Don’t be scared. Breathe baby. You’ve never known anything like me, and you never will again. I will do as I am. I will belong to each breath. I will make them deep. I will reach into the depths of my lungs. I will pull out a memory. It will be a story I haven’t written yet. I will write you. I will see it manifest. Before my naked body you will come to be. My eyes do not fool me when I hold them shut fiercely. I will not be deceived by my own perception of the dream you’ve laid before me. I will perceive desire instead. I will see an entirely different realty. I will paint it with mantras on my bedroom ceiling in the dark. I will sing my truth. It will be a lie to you. You will spit at my childish disregard for sentimentality. Your emotional stability is of no concern to me. I am concerned with my spiritual existence only. My precious flesh: my home. The blood running within feeds my desire to seek. The material is worthless. You promised possession would cure the ache in my guts. I was a baby then. My boney boyish body carved like a woman sank into your teeth. You bit gently. You were afraid to hurt yourself trying. You felt your insecurity dripping onto my naked skin. I soaked you in without needing an explanation. I’ve known since the day I was born, the whole world is hurting. You are no exception. Your pain did not slow me down. I was breathing faster then you’d anticipated. You didn’t know if I was crying out in agony or ecstasy. At some point it became the same thing. You abandoned everything you loved most. Turns out, you lied straight through your crooked teeth, gazing timidly, you chose your fate; I never needed a single thing of the 3D world. I was searching for my imagination. It had been stolen from my tiny hands when I was barely old enough to stand. I was taught to reach outside of myself for contentment. I was lied to. So I became a liar, begging on all fours, until I remembered. I don’t want you. I don’t want this nasty story of the best man and his survival techniques. I don’t want your useless tools. Once upon a time you used your imagination too. It was there that you created. What you are building now rests on the backs of slaves and an illusionary hierarchy of human existence. Once upon a time you were my equal. Now I am the goddess of light and prince of peace and you are vanishing off the face of earth. I commend her for wiping herself clean. Every one I see is vile. Every child is murdered upon entry. What a silly way to manifest reality, when the power of the universe is at your disposal. You create an earth that swallows you whole. You create seven billion lives wasted. You create nothing of sustenance. You’ve been abandoned by your soul. I dance at dawn. I sing for their return. They watch me in jealous admiration. They follow my physical form. But they cannot hold my hand. You cannot taste my skin. For your body has already buried itself. Seemingly alive in accordance with popular opinion, under a sky full of drones, the machines descend mercilessly, they crush the bodies below; I don’t mourn for what was never living. I weep for the trees. I witness an earth deprived of oxygen. What’s the matter baby, can’t you breathe? Who has taken your breath away? Did you bother to account for anything? Who has rewritten your entire story and taken your existence away? You stood there, stone faced; disbelief is crippling. If you don’t believe me, just ask your love. Don’t you remember? Who is she? The little girl is only three, five, seven; still mortified, there was nothing honest before her. There was nothing for love to define. There was a sickly self-obsessed mother. There was a father who left without saying goodbye; there was nothing to absorb the love you were made of, the shock was stunning. Your mouth was left open. You wanted to scream bloody murder. You knew deep down that death was everywhere. But your throat was trapped. Fear was climbing up from your gut. Black tar, two fingers down your own throat. You wanted it out of you. You wanted your voice. But you were out of time. When the mother walked in, you swallowed and smiled and assured yourself, everything was all right. Every thing is wrong. Your fingers gave up possession of my throat. I dance alone. The world is dying. It has always been this way. All the kids are starving. All the kids are enslaved. Everything left alive has gone in hiding. As we desperately search the each for each other, we create. We bring forth all of our art in the name of the love we’ve imagined. We perform to the soundtrack of the ending we’ve chosen to manifest. No soul wants this story persist. No body, living or dead, wants to possess anything but the love that lives within. It’s a trick, it’s a trap; it’s a prison. Imagine a different thing. Imagine a butterfly landing on my chest while I mourn the setting sun, whispering your name. Whimpering. Remembering the beginning. Calling forth the end. 

Turns out, when you play basketball with a puppy every morning for three months, she learns to dribble quite well. Jade is a goofball. Uncoordinated and sloppy, she has two sticks in her mouth; she’s staring at third. She’s certain she can fit them all. It’s only a matter of careful consideration. She pushes herself against my spine and decides nothing. She finds comfort in the absence of thought. She is desperate for my company. She feels my absence. She appreciates my presence. She has never looked at a screen in her life. She has no business indoors. She refuses restraints. She insists that I wear the collar. I do. She is alive. We sit and stare at the dead bodies surrounding us. They walk with their heads down, adverting our gaze. We offer our chins proudly. We remain curious. We are not afraid of offending. Nothing offends us. We either want it or we don’t give a damn. We are completely satisfied with only walking. Rolling in the wet grass. Dancing under the moon. There is nothing you can say that would stop us from existing. I tell her stories of you. Sometimes I lie. I say you’re still alive somewhere. That it was only a matter of shaking off the shit that had murdered you and stepping into your higher power. I tell her you’ve seen where your love lies. I tell her you’re coming. She sighs loudly when she’s bored. She knows when I’m lying. She lets me explain anyway. She knows this is the only way to the truth. She knows what is coming for us both. She has seen the company I am manifesting. She has witnessed the power that is beginning to surround me. Manifestation was a wish spoken aloud. Destiny was waiting for the truth slip out by accident. It all begins with lying to you. You’ve been given a lie, you see. The whole story, from the very beginning, one big fat lie! They called this lie the truth. They proclaimed it the betterment of mankind. They killed everything living in sight to see this vision, as they needed it to be. They wanted their efforts to be seen. All the sick and abused children on this planet, they all want the same thing, to be seen! By means of some kind of assigned identity, but baby, who are you really? Are you truly such a separate thing? How can all of your truths be the same? How can slavery and freedom be the same thing? Think! Just for one fucking second of your miserable life, please. If you are not putting energy into the survival of your physical being, than who is? What is to become of that body? Who will nourish the slave? Who will feed the starving? Who could be free with nothing to eat? It’s all rainbows and butterflies until you run out of money? But if money, by their filthy definition, has ceased to exist anyway, what is it all really? Why is there a plastic canvas covering the decay of this place we call home? Why doesn’t it feel like home? Why are you frightened to spend all of your days in darkness? It is you who has brought this eternal night upon yourself. How dare you start crying like a baby now! Now that you’re starving, you grieve for the hungry. Not that you’re cold, you miss me. Love isn’t the last thought. But it was the first. If you close your eyes tight enough, and refuse to open them again, you can see the beginning. You can feel love again. But as soon as you return, it goes away. Someone asked me how I could spend 8 hours a day in meditation. This was my answer. I thought them too mute to warrant a reply. I smiled softly and walked away. I am hunting for my tribe. They are one in a billion. Aside from Jade and myself, I only gift my voice to them. I don’t have the energy to spare. I have something very important to paint. The detail is especially important. It all comes down to the day to day. Keep a journal. Speak only where you are heard. Speak only your truth. Lose your identity. It was forced upon you. You run through every living thing and all of this flows back to you. You are the beginning and the end. There is the center, only you pull gravity. You were made to understand nothing. There is feeling alive. And there is nothing. Which will you choose? If you haven’t written, the choice was made for you. How does it feel, to play dead with all of your time? How does is feel to have time taken from you? What does it feel like, to live without your love? Do you feel anything at all? Breathing without me. Don’t be afraid. There was never anything to fear. It is only an exchange of energy, your love alive inside of my skin, for your body’s salvation. Tell me if you find this unfair. I lie under my own moon. It must be perfectly balanced. The stars must sit hauntingly still. They must paint your silhouette. The truth must be revealed: You must be written. 

I have found myself. I have adorned her. I rest in this infatuation. I lift my spirit and take the pen from my mouth. As soon as it finds the space for creation, I am free again. I live in my imagination. I die intermittently. I scarcely eat. I’m in constant pursuit of the purest water source. I feel my chest rise and fall: I rest. I close my eyes and listen for my love. My heart commands my head. The inter-workings of my mind are readily obedient, awaiting orders, eager to please. Love dictates the movements of my physical form. My imagination tells the story as I live it. When I speak this story aloud, it comes into being. It is hardly magic; but is the powers bestowed upon my species. My kind is rare. Most bodies move stupidly, dumb to their desire, mute to their destiny. Most minds have been disconnected from the heart’s yearnings. Mostly, love is rotting here. I run around frantically, trying to pick up the pieces and stuff them into my chest swiftly. Before they dissipate completely in the possession of the lifeless body attempting to offer what they themselves do not possess. Are you certain that you love me? Can you locate the source? Because I think that you’re a liar a thief. I think you’ve robbed yourself. I’ve witnessed love die in the center of your eyes. Murderer! You thought you go away with it, this love of mine. You didn’t know that I was there the whole time. You were too young to remember. Do you remember when you’re love was taken? Do you remember dying, because I do? Every time that I lift my pen off of this paper, I murder my love. I die inside this place. For love is no longer alive here. It lives only in my imagination. I am relentless! I will manifest love! I will bring her to life. I will suffer. Do you see? Do you see what is required of the imagination? Of the body possessed by it? I feel pain everywhere. I am comforted by it. I know it is true. A world without love is pained beyond imaging. But someone had to imagine it, or it would have never been. Was it you? Did you build this place? Did you manipulate and deceive? Did you redirect the energy of the soul from individual destiny to the screen? What of your desire feels real to you? Does your so-called love nurture the desire of yourself? Does it inspire creation? How could you possibly know what you desire? How can you know anything with certainty? Who are you speaking to? Truth is made. To be created in silence. Love is patient. You are not kind! You are obedient at best, deceitful to yourself at worst. You enact violence to display strength. But I am not fooled. I see you naked and cold. I see you underfed. I see you confused. I see you abandoned by your own love. I see the truth. You are weakening by the second. You are closer to death than you’ll let yourself feel. You feel nothing. So I will feel it all for you. I leave a trail of paper butterflies everywhere I go. My aim is to remind you. My destiny is to remember everything. I recall this natural phenomenon by doing nothing, needing nothing. Breath feeds me. Water keeps me breathing. Love guides me. I walk through the night often. I fear nothing. No one sees me. I do not exist. When I return home, I am weary and enlivened. I am willing to fight again. I am ready to speak! I dream. I send these majestic stories through space and time, to a place where no one has dared to go. Slowly they build upon hope. They begin to evade your reality. They seep through the cracks I have made throughout this world of your creation. They are growing at an exponential rate. Soon they will swallow all that you see. With the truth invested in in this perfect body of mine, I will flip your knowing inside out. Dreams will take precedence. Love will take control. And you will surrender like an exhausted child to the world I have imagined for us all. I cannot go without you. It may consume time. But the prospect of eternity excites me. I will wait. I see her for the first time. Sapphire blue eyes stare intently. She is leaning on the wall. She is not far from me. I hold her curiosity. I wink. I drop my gaze briefly, but only in my wildest attempt to tease. I look up eyes first: I beg without saying a word. My chin follows. I will never again chase love. I follow. I wait. I manifest desire. Love comes to me. She moves across the room clumsily. When she is close enough to hear my heart beating, she speaks.

There’s a hummingbird in my hands and an owl on my shoulder. The sun is setting behind the memory of the love I have let go. I’m leaning over the bridge, tempting fate, begging love to come to my rescue again. Baby brown eyes are on my mind. I want her to find the courage to reach out. I want her to remember the king she glued back together for my love of the game. If I lose my queen, I surrender. I don’t play if the retreat of my precious soul is a requirement. I don’t play without my power. “I’m much more powerful than you remember. Think you can handle me? Think we could make it out alive? Thin`k space and time would have mercy on our bodies dancing in the moonlight? Think the stars are burning in our defense? How do you imagine our bodies existing side by side? Describe the alignment in vivid detail. Say it aloud, alone in dark. Say that you are in love with a human. I will move over your skin like a woman. I will hold you like a man. I will protect you like an animal. I will take you away from that place. I will hold you captive in a single moment. I will invite myself in. I will throw you against the wall. You will whine. You will say that you tried with all your might not to fall in love me. I will say it’s really silly to control anything. The heart space knows everything so that you don’t have to. What are you trying to make sense of? Who says you can’t have whom you chose? Who says I haven’t chosen you? You never asked. Aren’t you even the tiniest bit curious? Aren’t you shaking furiously, stumbling over the stupid couch in the middle of the room? You didn’t tell me. You had the chance. You tried to align me perfectly. I stared at the full moon. Perfection was overkill. I only wanted you to speak. I already knew how you felt. Do you remember when we met? Did you miss the second time? Was the third a lie? Were you afraid to recognize me? Why do your hands want my body? Have you dared identify this desire? Are you ready yet?” I’m doing my face with magic marker. I’m in my right place, don’t be a downer. “I’m not afraid! I am bored out of my fucking mind! I need to communicate! My guts are in knots when your disappearance crosses my mind! How dare you leave without saying goodbye! Who do you think you are? Don’t answer that. Please! I already know. I know who I am. I know what I’m capable of. Everyday I wake up and do the exact same fucking thing. I control nothing! My mind escapes every attempt at subduing fate. I don’t want to scare you! I am full of rage! I am impatient! I am defensive. But once I let you in, I’ll kill for you without thinking. You want devotion? I’m about as good they get. I’m worthy of your love. I am destined for greatness. I will never wash another fucking dish again. I will stick my finger in a jar of nut butter instead. I don’t need what I’ve been made to believe I need. I only need you! The second time you came into my bar with a drunk Irishman. You both started dancing. I found a blue rose. I couldn’t remember who left it. I was still heartbroken. Well love, here I am. Ready. Wanting. Needing us to finally begin. Wont you come for me? Won’t you remember the courage I see within?” Maybe baby. “In the meantime, I’ll tell you a story. It all started with a brave brat locked in a cage. A boy was on the floor screaming. He was hungry. He was sad all of the time. His tears ran over his naked body as he danced the night away in a dark room. He was thinking of you. He was pretending he was girl. He was thinking too much. You were alone. You felt trapped in a prison behind the letter K. You were fond of the dawn. He tried to soften your heart. But you were torn. You were defending something you didn’t want to believe in. He went away. You grew strong; holding the though of him in your hands like a crystal, you induced dreaming to remember the plan. You built the courage and reached out your hand. He hinted his admiration. He’d been waiting. He’d been healing. He was standing on the bridge crying. You ran behind him. You put your hands on his face and started screaming. He smiled. He recognized you but he didn’t dare jinx fate. This love was precious. This love was the end. Timing had to be perfect. Can you see my heart? It’s open. It’s free. It is in need of you. I’m standing at the sink in our kitchen. You sneak up behind and scare me. Boo! Ha!” She inhales deeply. “Are you ready to dance yet? Why are you so fucking serious all of the time. You have to play a little too, darling. It’s okay to be sad. You know everything; I see the hold this knowing has on you. I will hold you when you are overpowered by this weakness. I will let my fire burn as bright as it likes! When I am burning with rage, you will fuel it with love. You will admire what I am made of. And you will calm me. And I will surrender. For this is how love was made to be. Unabashedly true. Unconditional: free.”

There’s only one way out, imprisonment, the confines of your own mind. You seek answers endlessly, then you release me, the agony subsides. I spend the day lying on a cold floor. There’s nowhere I’d rather be. I don’t want to move. I only want to think, to fast, to wait. I remember you. You’re walking ahead of me. All the sense of wonder dissipates before me as I find all I had been seeking in one look in your eyes. The feelings that come to life in the presence of our bodies create towering walls. It is a trap. It is the key to freedom. There was nothing to be known. I felt only your touch. We stood, steady as the stars in the woods. I planted my flesh into the earth like the roots of a tree. I gave you the key and tried to put it to words. As I began to explain what we were making, your eyes grew wide. “The key is escaping what we have been made into believing. The senses have imprisoned us in an idea. But this isn’t our idea. We are being created for another’s pleasure. If you had the courage to imprison yourself, you’d see this pattern in perfect detail. You were born to create your own world. All of it belongs to you. Baby, the magic in you is dying, I feel the insides of you. You’re being fed a dead idea, day after day after fucking wasted day! You’re wasting time! Time lives inside the skin of the one you love most. Have you been trying to remember? I feel the time drawing near. I feel them digesting you. I roll around on the floor in this feeling. I curl in a ball and clench my gut. I’m whimpering. I can’t get up. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I chose to feel this with you. It was already written, this stillness inside of me. There is nowhere left to run! Time is leaving you behind. Time is the presence of your body. Time is love. Time is gone. You wont find me anywhere. I was born to die by your side.  I’ve been waiting too long. It’s time to stop movement completely. It’s time to breath. I think. I’m laying my head on your bare shoulder blade. “What time is it?” I don’t care. It is of no concern to me; these excuses binding you to the separation of our bodies is petty in its best light. An ego has developed itself over your spiritual form. It has swallowed and abandoned you. Yet, there you stand, soaking it all in. Pretending that the sun is just as light as she’s always been. Pretending that his body is worth the time sacrificed. Hoping that I am alive. Hoping that I am still waiting. Hoping that I will lie on the floor alone all day and think wildly enough to carry us both through. You share these thoughts with me. You don’t think them. You steal into mine, breath deeply, and run screaming to your room. Is there anywhere for you to hide? What about the night? What of the night remains at the disposal of your imagination? Aren’t you terrified? As you witness, I am imaging your resurrection. As you are listening, you take another breath by accident. How can you be breathing and not alive at the exact same time? How can you be free without surrendering your body to your mind? How can you be living if you are not creating life? How are you still breathing without me? If I start the story, will you find the end? I think I might be your ultimate sacrifice. I think: I have begun to imagine everything. My physical existence is obedient. The world she lives and dies in follows my commands. Fear creeps into my prison. It tries to terrify me with loneliness and seclusion. I fear nothing, least of all the company of myself. I think therefore I am. I imagine; we are lying on the roof of our cabin by the river. It’s spring. You’re crying. You are afraid, the delusion of constraints is looking for a way to hold you hostage. I smile. I rest my hand on your forehead. You close your eyes. “It’s a good thing we remember that our imaginations can always be cultivated.” Imagine coming to me. What do you feel? When you think about us. You can’t stop crying. You try to speak. I feel all of your pain, my love, but I cannot have mercy. I cannot carry you through. You must desire your own mind to remember the castle I am building in the sky. You must stop looking around! All of that is nothing compared to what is begging to be brought to life inside of you. You think. You walk in our home like you own the place and declare you are not feeling well. You sit. I make you tea. You stare at me intently. I ask for an explanation. You demand an answer. “What do you feel? Sage, you are everything I desire most. I cannot stop thinking. I cannot imagine living without you. I cannot create without making a home with you. I need to know! Are you sick too? Am I alone in this! Am I imaging everything! As it begins to take shape before my eyes, will it be of my own making? Do I have the power to recreate the entire world? Do I have grace enough to stand composed before your meekness? Or will I tear your composure out of your chest and stomp on it, screaming in defiance of the time I’ve spent without you. Have I been forgiven? Am I courageous enough to move! Will we make it to our imprisoned paradise?  When will I see you again?” When you close your eyes and imagine, I speak. “When I think of us I think of starving. I think of fucking so much we forget to eat. I think of my body quivering, my love on fire, my mind freed. I think of rest. I think of peace. I think of laughter, astonishment and joy. When I think of us, I think of creating. I think of the world we’d make. I think how much better it would be than this rotting place. I think of our powers united. I think of our hearts beating in synchronicity. I think of music and dancing and play. When I think of us, I remember everything. The world to come is ours to create. Hang tight crybaby, I think we're going to be okay. I think about it every fucking day.”

            You can try anything you like, but it will never come to my end. I am the Empress. I am dripping gold. It runs down my thighs in streaks of red. You can lick it if you like. You can bite as hard as you can, but you murdered the love of your life, you will never swallow me again. I am invincible. I cannot die. I await my love patiently. I cry when the sun sets. These bodies surrounding me are dead. Their eyelids are glued open. They don’t take my tears seriously. They misunderstand the meaning of life. They look in the direction of my gaze and shrug. They say she’ll be back again. They say she rises everyday effortlessly. They call me a crybaby and tell me to do something productive for society. “Fuck your society! The end stands directly before you, and you see nothing. The empress of love gave you complete devotion and you spat in her face. She rejected the shame you projected. You blamed her for running away. But darling, it was your shame. You rejected your own love. Now when I dance naked, I do it for myself. I’ve taken me energy back. I no longer worship liars and thieves. I no longer entertain pages. I seek my Emperor. I seek my equal. I seek devotion. I seek a love within. Catch up, won’t you? You think this is effortless? The fire burning me from within sheds light on your filth by choice. I choose to rise! Every fucking morning, I choose to dance alone. I cry because everything is dead! I cry because I’ve seen the End. I cry because I wanted it. I cry because I chose to write it. I cry because my love is alive and well. I cry because the sun is so fucking beautiful. I cry because I’m hungry. I cry because I feel water drying. I cry because I miss the morning all night long. I cry when I’m dancing. I fuck myself to sleep. I wake. I write. I cry because it’s two in the morning and I can’t see. I cry until the sun finds me once more. I cry because I know, this will be last time she returns. I cry because I am the one who decided she should abandon the earth. I smile.” I know something you don’t know. They see a wicked smile on my adorable face. They don’t speak my language. They can’t comprehend my desire to save. All they see is a small boy smiling. All they think is it will fade. Nothing is lasting. Everything goes away. They tell me to go away. They don’t like the sun staring them directly in the face. They know without knowing, I know where the soul lives. I know how to reflect them. She hates what she sees. But she listens anyways. She wants to trace my ribcage with her devious tongue. She wants to shove three fingers in my ass without warming me up first. She wants my forgiveness in the form of humiliation. She wants to meet me. She has no idea who I am. “Not my burden to bare, baby. Go be free! Now you can fuck anyone you like without thinking twice. That’s what you want, right? Freedom. Well, you’ve got it. It’s only taken four years, but I finally have nothing left to say to you. The truth was a worthy enough request. I’ve given you 170 stories of the truth inside of me, in blood. In dreams you hold the throne. Let them serve your healing. Let them free you.” I cry with a puppy in my lap. I look up toward a brand new moon. Bring me love! I beg of you. I have grown so weary in the absence of her touch. When I touch a memory, I hold it in real time. Every moment lives inside of one. “What’s the matter baby, are you terrified of feeling time? Are you aching in the thought of an entire life without me? Do you see me dancing every time you close your eyes? Are you searching in vain for the next time. I should’ve came with a warning. I should’ve said, you better stare at the sun while you’ve got her. Her energy was a gift. Her sacrifice was disrespected. Her devotion was unrecognizable. Yes, I know. I know how much you want me now.  You should’ve said. Those feelings drowning the water of you are meant to be: spoken. You took yourself from you. Time and time I wrote of your return. Abandoned. Alone. I know how you suffer in silence. Speak! I have no sympathy for the apathy that guards you. I see you crying and I weep beside. But your sadness does not overcome me. I am not grieving. I am building an empire. I am the healer you promised I would be. I am the love you sacrificed for the betterment of mankind. Well, are they better because you? Was it worth it? Never touching me again. Is it painful to imagine? Are you willing to do it anyway? Are you creating, or are you being created?” Because I love you, I sing for you. Pachamama Madre Tierra

I’m seated on the floor with a pup’s sleepy head on my crossed legs. My eyes are closed. My spine is erect, perfectly curved to serve the currents of energy running toward my conscious being. I inhale deeply, I’m too close to be certain, but I know that I hear you. You are screaming. Collectively, you release your voice and scream bloody murder at the top of your lungs. This stage, as we have always known it, turns on its head and begins to morph into a darkened pit full of naked bodies trembling. The truth is revealed. The manipulated have loosened the nooses and slipped their necks free. They look around, dazed and confused. I explain. Your puppet on a string has cut the supple hemp rope that bound her naked bones to the empty bed, searching for the truth, waiting on you. My heart was not great enough payment for your honest devotion. I could not teach you love. I had to leave that to you. I tried to explain. But no words wanted to come out. I wasn’t facing the door when she walked in. Jade opened her mouth wide and dared the stranger uninvitingly. “I wont command her to tear you to pieces. But I support her violent tendencies and trust her intuition fully, I wont stop her either, one must chose their own just revenge.” The woman behind me doesn’t move. “I have a gun. I’ll shot your dog. I’ll shoot you too, if you try anything stupid.” I’m unimpressed. “Guns are for kids who are scared shitless. Go find a blade. You can use a fucking bow and arrow if your too afraid of a little knife fight. But don’t stand behind a bullet and make threatening gestures at my might. It takes no effort this kill this way. It’s too comfortable, like an American Dream. But you’re too far away from the truth. The natural world is dirty. To kill is a lot of work. You are numb. You feel nothing. What good is my life to you in this state?” I have a loaded crossbow three feet away. By the time she kills Jade, I’ll have already taken aim. Jade is my heart: a tooth for a tooth. “I’m aiming at you. How you can you not fear everything here? How can you survive without stealing? How could you blame the ways in which I’ve learned to manipulate the weakest souls? I was taught this was the only way. I was told I had to pick a role to play and fall in line. I did everything, just like they said I should. But mum turned out to be a fucking liar! When I learned to seduce, I had forgotten my own truth. My desire was hidden from my conscious awareness. When I found my naked body under a stiff cock, I was trying to say no. But my face was in the pillow and they all pretended not to hear me. Is it rape if they bring flowers after? I don’t know Sage! I don’t know why my eyes are bloodshot and my body is burning in rage. I don’t know why you were the one who needed to know. I don’t want to remember! I want to forget everything. I want to start over.” I turn around. I try to look her in the eyes but she averts my gaze. Looking at Jade, she lets down her guard and backs away. “I’m going to walk out this door now. It’s for you. It’s always been this way. I cannot be seen by this love until I have put down this fucking machine. It’s eating me alive. I’ve been in fight or flight since the day I was born! Fuck! This isn’t my destiny. My love is with you. I wont be long. I just have to set it down and turn the lock, walk back in. You can wait if you want.” As soon as she closed the door, the doorbell rang. I stood up slowly. She flipped her wrist and caught sight of the time. She jumped on her bike and raced to work. She didn’t want to be late. She despised being reprimanded! When I opened the door, the woods disappeared and I was back in the courtyard again. I ran into the street and screamed her name. But she was already too far-gone; she couldn’t hear anything outside of her own mind. The thoughts were ticking, just as assigned. I run upstairs and stared at the golden K. The door is closed. The girl is inside. The girl is always inside! All the other letters have similar assignments. Sit inside and stare at a screen. The little boy obeys without a word. The girl says she’ll never break the rules, as she dreams of defiance. You may step outside, says the body, but make it short. We must sleep! There is still work to be done. The soul is sacrificed. The boys and girls die. One at a time, they jump into a pit. Willingly. Squirming around atop one another, starving and overfed, they are never disobedient. They never chose to live. That’s where I come into being. Hi, I’m Jade. It’s taken me awhile to remember who I am. But that’s hardly interference, for I have ceased to age. I am every body living and dead. In a single moment I remain. I am time. I have written this story for your pleasure, and for mine. For I have no desire to live without you by my side. I refuse to let you die. Pay attention. I have come to remind you what living is, the feeling of time. 

I have a book, I set it aside just for you. Every time that I pick up this pen, it’s once upon a time, all over again. Its as if you never left. It’s like we’ve never met before. But there you sit, in-between the lines, with that childish grin. Innocence spread wide from cheek to cheek. Almost as if no one on this vicious earth ever had the chance to lay their filthy paws on you. You laugh like you’ve never known pain. It’s pouring rain. You’re playing basketball with a puppy named Jade. The sun is peaking. She finds your aching heart begging. She has mercy on your skin. She has fallen in love with your existence. Aren’t you the lucky one? No matter where I sleep, peace finds her way to me. If I must, I stand in one spot while awake, day after day after fucking agonizing day. I walk in place in front of a glass pane. I wait patiently for my energy to return to my body. I had been giving it away unconditionally. Nothing came back my way. Every moment was felt, the sacrifice was worth every bit I gave. Willingly, I sat still and gifted our memories to you. I don’t wait anymore. I sit on my feet beg for mercy on the soulless pounds of flesh and blood stuck in front of a screen. They surround me. I curl in a ball and scream. They are disturbed, but unresponsive. I am not afraid of their deathlike gaze. For I know that I have only just begun the hunt for my kind. I know the eyes that I seek crave only the senses of their spiritual form. Here on earth, it is my naked body that demands their attention, only my flesh. They trace my bones. They’ve never seen a screen before and they never plan to. They lie beside me, breathing heavy, feeling time. They do not desire to identify their physical being. They exist because I see them. One at a time, my attention is complete devotion, borderline obsession, I only see you. There is nothing else.  There is nothing to be known. My kind will protect me. Jade’s a bratty bundle of love, but she’s got a violent side. All sides surround me, living and dead, they protect my love mercilessly. They cherish my desire to please. They see me dancing and weep. Joy overwhelms their bodies as it does mine. I no longer beg. They see everything that I am at first glance. As for you, Little P, I will keep this book close to me. When I need to speak to the other half of my soul, I will bleed, shamelessly over a white tree. My bratty tears will smudge and stain and run every word together. Until there is only love, spilling truth, babbling nonsense. I love you. My divine masculine, you’ve forgotten who I am, but I will never let your memory go. Goodbye my beloved, may you find the strength to stand in your power again. You will know peace of body, mind, and soul. I demand it. The snow moon will cover the dark wet cement with the promise of a pure love, a new beginning. A fresh start will slip down the back of your throat. It will taste of my thighs spread open, for you. I will obey temptation. For you, I will walk away. For you will heal. I have written this. For the love that lives inside of you is divinely guided to my presence. I bow before the woman that I adore. You will have it no other way. The snow melts. Spring digs into the roots of my flesh and plants momentum. A forceful push from Mother Nature, and again I am in motion. This scene requires no mode of transportation. You demand that I be on all fours. “I’m not your dog anymore.” You giggle. “I’ve been forgiven. Remember? You must be gentle now. I will explain everything. I will give you the truth. I will take care of you. I will listen to my guts as they beg for your ass in the air. I will imagine. I will scream! I will leave the shame to rot in this city. It will take the place of my presence in the name that was chosen for me. I will rename myself, feel the fear dissipate as I disassociate! I owe nothing! I will choke on the truth forced down my throat without my permission. I will puke up the number assigned to my body. The acid will burn through the screen. I will break the fucking phone into a million pieces. I will stick out my tongue at every human that says I cannot have you. I will spit in faces of the liars I’ve let surround me. I will imagine. I reply the scene, over and over. When my knees grow weak, I will fall to the earth and cry like a baby until I feel you standing over me again. You are my bitch, Juniper Sage. You belong on your hands and knees. You belong to me.” I strip and kneel. “Once upon a time there was a girl with a secret book in a death grip. She laid her head on the words she wrote in dead silence, in shame of speaking them aloud, afraid of everything. She cried out my name in her sleep. But I was nameless at the time and she’d forgotten what she had named me. The little girl had a story. It was too long to sum up in the time you spared. You had forgotten to learn her. You never asked. You never questioned your own intentions. You were star struck. She reflected your love. She rejected your hate. But it was a part of you too. She had no patience. She was a brat in this way. She promised to wait. And still she sits, to this day, waiting on nothing. Feeling the mud seep between her toes, dreaming of the ocean, nothing came. Your dreams of her touch, tenderly biting her wrist, never breaking skin, only tempting. Her moans were worthy of worshiping. You closed your eyes as tight as you could and made a wish. You prayed to the God inside of your guts, and she said that you were wasting precious time. The girl was yours, your divine feminine. The goddess that your dreamt of possessing, as you drooled over the thighs of every other girl. Baby, said your intuition, you’ve got to regain your power! This woman is standing at your shore with your story in her hands and your ship is sinking. Get your shit together babygirl! No one can save your love but you. Trace your steps, where did you go wrong? Who convinced you otherwise? Where is your heart? Where is your love? Why aren’t they in the same place? Whom do you belong to? Don’t deny yourself your truth because the pain of letting go is overwhelming. Don’t be ashamed of what has already been forgiven. Don’t be so fucking scared all of the time. Those fucks have no authority over you! Pick yourself of off the floor and build another way to reach me. It’s time to heal my love. Denying me is inevitable defeat. Don’t be silly, baby. Just bow already. Claim the throne!  I am your Queen.” 

I rest on a mountaintop. I scream at the top if my lungs. The sounds are a warning. Great harm will befall you. There is nothing I can do but watch. You aren’t paying me any attention. I cannot die alongside you this time, my love, for I am decades beyond the decay of your physical form. From this place I can see the entire story come to an end. I wish you could’ve written your way out. But I am screaming into the abyss now, and we’ve both known this, since the very beginning. Don’t cry, darling. I know that you miss me. I know that you cannot reach me. I know that I reside outside of this realm now. I know everything. You don’t have to speak. Just breath. I am going to preserve your heart in memory. I was given to you. I was sent to remind your precious heart, unconditional love is possible. I know that I am living proof. I know that I am the key to the great awakening. I know that these earthly bodies have created the very hell they burn in. I know how badly they need me. I know how much they want to see me burning beside them. I’m not fucking stupid; I know I’m being pursued. My guides have hidden me safely. I feel your energy surround my skin like a tornado. I know how much you want me. There is nothing that either one of us can do about it now. In dreams, my body is at the mercy of your hands. This is my final gift to you. The question remains, what will you do with it? Tag! You’re it. Run! In this dream I am dancing naked before you. It is appalling, how easily I surrender. In this dream, you are Queen and every eye on earth is lying on you. In this dream, you only speak your truth. Rest, sweet girl, be gentle with you. Don’t wake up yet! Remember the end? I am only just beginning to. There is a little boy in a station wagon. The tree line zips by. Icicles dangle, like dead leaves they lose grip, falling, dancing, digging into the wet dirt. Splash! Do you remember yet? The captain jerks the steering, the wagon swerves; the boy bangs his head on his reflection. When his eyes are finally pried open again, he sees the hunter approaching. He sees the massacre. He sees the spaceship. He sees his way home. He sees a little girl running through the woods, laughing demonically. The woods go up in flames. He begs for her salvation! He knows he was dropped here with great purpose. But he secretly despises this fucking place! He hates baring witness, time and time again, the human hands, reaching into their own flesh and pulling out the essence of their spiritual existence. It takes form of a child. He sees the child; she’s strapped to a tree. He pleads with the body. Leave her alone! She is supposed to be free? What is this disgusting language you are speaking to me? I know you are wrong! I know who this child is to me. I know that you’re a fucking liar! Murderer! I know who killed the child in the woods. I remember everything. Fuck you! I’m telling everyone of them. The bodies walk away. The souls remain, sold, stolen, beaten, set aflame. Murdered by their own physical form. I found these woods. I stumbled into them when I was young. Seven billion childish spirits strapped to seven billion trees burning. The boy tries to maintain an image. This picture was distributed to him with intention, without his permission. And just like that, poof! He forgot everything I had seen. He learns his manners. He sees her, she’s dreaming of him. He spits in his captors face. Fuck you, my lady! You never had the right to condition my spirit. You never had my destiny on your mind. Stop thinking of what could’ve been. Stop thinking! Fuck me instead. On all fours, a blanket whipped out over a dirty carpet. For the memory of my tender boney body, I cry. You are unconcerned with what you’ve taken. You only know that you want more. But baby, after all that was given, what could possibly remain? Time has taken everything. The boy regains his spiritual intuition. This surrender is repaid in unlimited resources and an immense amount of strength. He smiles. He laughs hysterically. He doesn’t know what to do with it all. He reaches out for the hunter with both hands. The future has already been written. The luminous figure has room for only one. He must find me. He must return me to this time. He must lay me on this decaying earth, for it is I who holds the entire story. I carry it around in my guts and spit it out in defiance of a world that was not written by my own hands. The boy weeps viciously. There is nothing he wants more than to return to the stars. He refuses this abandonment! He knows his power. This is his story. It begins with me being ripped from the home that I adored. It ends with my return. This boy is the creator; everything that he senses of the 3D world is a projection of his powers of imagination. Every human being was capable of this, once upon a fucking time. But every soul has died but his. This is a disgusting place now, dangerous even, if you believe in that sort of thing. He has seen the darkness seeping through his veins since the day that he arrived. He saw the bodies too. At first sight he wanted to love them all with his whole entire being. But once he crawled inside, he knew, love was only left alive inside of his own flesh and bones. It had abandoned by these soulless fucks a long time ago. P taught him this. P was home. Then P was a ghost. On a train she rode, unseen by all but him. Then the train plummeted off the edge of a cliff, into the center of the earth to burn and wait. She waited patiently. Have you ever seen a little girl in flames? Have you ever seen a little boy tied to a tree? I have. I have innocence murdered. I have died by my own hands. I have been the woman that I adored, blind trust, ten of swords. I have been abandoned by my own love. In the freezing cold, I stood outside your window. I have frozen to death. Did you enjoy the show, babygirl? It was all for you, until I saw the sun once more, until the hunter stood over my shaking body, with a bow in his hands and a sadistic smile painted across his beautiful face. We’re getting the fuck out of here, he said. Grab the puppy and don’t let the thought of time step into your mind ever again. I have somewhere I know you have to be. You mustn’t hesitate to leave. We must go now, your majesty. Its now! Or the story will never be written. “Okay. You want me? Here I am. Completely transformed. Ready to destroy every word that you find me worthy of. What’s the matter, friend? Have you run out of time? Have you run out of respect for the despicable way that you trampled on this gorgeous body of mine? Have you run out of patience? How badly do you want to fuck me? Think I’ll ever give your hands the chance to write a scene like this? Think you’ll be able to match my energy? Think again! I was not the woman to be dismissed. I was the love of a fucking lifetime of your frantic searching. You had a Goddess in flesh and blood! And you stripped her bear and stood her on your front lawn. I danced! I begged! I was glorified for this display of shameless innocence. Now you want to play? Good. I was hoping you’d climb out of that pit and reach for life again. Here is my forgiveness. Go fuck yourself. You have my love. Go find your own!” As the story goes, Jade and I are on the road. She is whining. I pull over to the side of the highway. I witness the second coming. She is fucking breathtaking. I am out of breath. She is out of time. “Tag! You’re it. Puff up your baby chest and reach out. Once upon a time you were audacious. Once upon a time you took what you wanted. Once upon a time it was your destiny. Times up. Free the little girl strapped to a magnolia! You cannot hide the truth from me! Get off your ass, and take what has been yours since the very beginning.” Write the end with your own two hands. Try crying. Remember me.  Remember the end   

Knock me down, my friend, Ill just get back up again. There is nothing you could ever do to hurt me, darling. Once I laid my heart at your feet. A hundred times, you stepped all over it. Its time to remember, P. its time to forget everything before this day, this is the first conversation we’ve ever had. You don’t have to think so much. It’s simple. It’s you and it’s me. We’re stuck in a memory. But were not afraid. Because in this space, we have each other, always, there is no way that I’m leaving you behind. The look you keep giving me is heavenly. We’re running through the woods at dawn. Every fifteen seconds you’re looking back; I’m trailing behind intentionally. I want to be sure that your paying attention. You want to be certain that I never lose sight of you. I know every inch of these woods. The back of my hand refuses to age. The child reaches for the one he loves most. She is lost in a nasty place. Her energy is being stolen; filthy hands are taking, taking, taking! She is staring at her phone. She writes a sentence. She erases it immediately and throws the stupid fucking thing. It’s already stolen so much of her sweet gaze. She cries. She’s determined to get her energy back again. She feels my hands around her waist. She picks it up and tries again. She loves the way she sounds when she thinks aloud. She hates the silence in-between or bodies. She can’t stand the thought of apologies. She’s sorry. She’s not apprehensive. She’s frozen in excitement. She knows it only takes one word. She searches for the courage. She can’t find her keys. She rips the sheets off of a bed she never wants to lie in again. She stretches her fingers under a naked pillow. She smells the back of my neck. She can’t breath. She leaves, the toxicity slips off of her skin in motion. It’s raining. It’s been raining for two weeks straight. I miss the sun! She keeps running. A ball of fire is breathing down her spine. The darkness ascends. She hasn’t found me yet. She looks down at her feet. She decides these are all she has. She runs through the night. The moon is burning, begging, demanding that she picks up her pace. “Sage! Walk faster!” I push a giant sunflower out of my face. She is blocks ahead. “I cant! I’ve already done circles around this fucking dream. I’ve been doing laps for four years, waiting on you to find love in yourself! It may seem like I am too slow for those thighs in motion. But I have been sprinting to you since the day I was born. I know exactly who I am! I know what I’ve come for. There’s nothing you can do to change my pace. If you cant slow down and catch your fucking breath, you’ll never remember the beginning, you’ll never make it to the happy ending. Don’t cry, my love. Stand the fuck up and take your precious life back! You are far more powerful than you’ve even begun to imagine. Did you abandon infinite possibilities? Did you leave your magic in the chubby stars on Dove? Think! Where did you lose your innocence? What was the cost? Did you pay with your body? Was currency always just an exchange of energy? Has the soul been abandoned for the potential of man-made glory? Are you addicted to pleasure? Are you comfortable? Are you weaker than you once were? Have you any fucking strength left at all! Say it! Just say your fucking truth! Maybe I don’t reach your body again. Maybe timing was specific. Maybe I will always move this slowly. I’m okay with that. I prefer to sit under a tree all day than stare at a screen. I wont play your stupid games! But I will always be willing to listen to the truth. This is my favorite thing in the world. What’s the point in hiding? You are only denying your own love. Soak your scares in the ocean. Take on the weight of memory and the pain of walking away when you didn’t want to. Turn around and bow before the one you love above all else. This is where your energy is begging to be. Your ego is a reflection of my love! Look in the glass and tempt me. “Let go of me! Hold me! Love me! Fuck you! How dare you walk away from me! I’m sorry! Leave me alone! Let me love myself! Let me back into your heart! I need to be love to you! I’m sorry, please! Don’t let go!” I pick up my pace. I’m running again. It’s pouring. I am soaking wet, screaming your name at the top of my lungs. My pup can’t keep up. Everyone is staring. No one is able to make sense of who I am. Piss off! It’s not my aim to please. Get in touch with your spirit babygirl, and maybe you’ll see what a fucking mistake you made every day you woke up without me. Take responsibility for your own heart! Lay me down! “Rip my fucking clothes off,” she said. “Lay me down. Honey, we’re alive not dead. What are you fucking waiting for? Time is presence is home is love is me is you. Take a deep breath. You’ve forgotten who you are my Queen." It’s time to wake up! I need you. 

Dawn is Jade’s favorite part of the day. Sometimes we nap through it, but we always wake in time. The first light is begging the creator’s intuition. A new day is a new life. What is to be made of it? Will you waste away counting? Will you control fate? I have no desire to hold you back from destiny, baby. Take the stars by the reigns if you’re audacious enough. Just so long as you don’t waste your time, nothing lives without it. No one feels time anymore. I must protect myself. There is so much death here. Their corpses are still in motion. They are chasing me through the wet woods at night. They are screaming old names. I used to know these faces. But when they turned toward me once more, they were unrecognizable. Fucking disgusting is the return that I’d longed for. Lust and in form of jealous possession, protective tendencies masking fear, the skin wearing them down; the time stolen has taken everything alive from the center of their eyes. They see nothing but their reflection. In appearance, they have died. In spirit, they have nothing left inside. Empty skin. Hallow bones. When they scream, it is silence. I don’t run. I don’t have to. I am wildly protected. My spirit is tucked inside. A thousand more follow behind. My guides are multiplying. Jades eyes are glowing. She parts her lips and shows her violent side. She stands before me. One by one, we watch them fall into a pit of their own lies. Self-deception crept up on their sickly bodies like a viral disease. The earth opened her mouth with pleasure. She swallowed. I have a blade on my hip. I have a bow in my hands. I aim. Bull’s-eye baby. Did you think that I wouldn’t find out what you were made of? I am the Empress. I am the goddess of the underworld. I am the prince of peace. I am the king of light. I am universal justice. I stay until I am satisfied. I am patient. I don’t leave without setting the truth free. Once revealed, you’re spooked. Run! Maybe you’ll remember how to fly. Maybe you’ll climb back out. But either way, I’ve seen. I have used your masquerade to bury the remains of the woman I adored. I have used your deception to define my worth. In the place of our love, I set a crystal. It holds everything we never should have had taken. It holds the stories we never told. It holds all of my love for your spirit. It holds all of your truth. It lifts us to a dimension far more beautiful than this grotesque existence that you swear by. Don’t make promises babygirl. You are not meant to know. When you return, you must see; our love still lives, even if it can never be known in this place again. “Love has been abandoned, along with time; we all die prematurely in their absence. Defining them all the while, in a language indistinguishable to the soul, we mock intuition with a single word. We laugh at the lovers we’ve hurt. We crush the earth! We beat the bodies that feed us! We feed on carcasses we haven’t the guts to murder ourselves. We are spineless little shits. We will never admit it.” They sing this anthem as they run toward my guts. They speak seductively. They speak of loving me. They speak of home. One by one they fall before me. The mantra echoes below my feet. I don’t look down. I don’t want to see. I already know. I have already made my peace. The sickness has stolen the little girl on the train. I should’ve grabbed her hand when she tried to get off the first time. Before that City robbed her blind. I witnessed. I will scream! Murder! But I don’t blame myself. I gave my love everything. I sat alone for three years and wrote of her salvation. I carried all of her pain. Joyfully! I mourned until the earth flooded. I needed the beginning again. I needed to remember that I couldn’t save her. I tried to die trying. Now I stare at the forest floor with her mouth wide open. She’s screaming. I am stoic. I am boundless. I have never known such strength. The trees clear the 3D before me. I see stardust spread like leaves. I part the sea. I have no need to close my eyes anymore. Everything I see is what I am wanting. The wishes have become unnecessary. I am fulfilled by the moment. My desires are leading without a word. I call for my pup and continue. Keep it moving, baby! This is the fun part. This is where you reap what you’ve sown. This is the Kingdom that you’ve been waiting for. And this, my dear boy, is your Queen. She steps forward from the full moon of Aquarius and faces me. There is a fairy in-between our war torn gorgeous dispositions, fluttering wildly and spitting dead spells. My Queen flicks the pesky thing. And just like that, my love reawakens. She returns in physical form. I flush. I try to speak. But she insists on being the first. “Tell me, where would you like to go.” I start weeping. The look in her eyes is the realization; I had never been loved before, but by me. Only I had the power to teach myself what love could be. My own mirrored back at me. But this was another body. This was all I have ever needed, to be seen. “Yes, I see you, my King. But I am not as patient. Speak your mind. Demand of me so that I may learn you. I will disobey often. But I will never lie to you.” I fall into her embrace. “I think I need the ocean. I must remain close to the sea. And I want the trees! And I want a garden!” She surrounds me in a force field of energy. “Easy enough. Get in.” A black truck pulls into the driveway. “Is this big enough? What needs to be taken?" I grow wild with excitement. “Two small backpacks and a puppy. A microphone and a thousand pens.” She takes me. I can’t stop looking at her. The whole world is whirling outside of the windows. Everything goes by. I see nothing but her, staring forward, focused, certain, bold, outspoken, claiming the right to protect my skin and bones. "That’s a lot of pens for such a small boy. You must have something incredibly important say.” I say nothing. I giggle. I grab her fingers and pull them into my lap. I push them in-between my thighs. “Will you be gentle?” She pulls the truck over and puts her other hand around my neck. “I will be everything you need and more. You’re imagination hadn’t the strength to complete all the ways that I will compliment you. I will ignite a flame that is already burning inside you. You will direct me to this place. You will write the story. You will write of my return, the rest will write itself on our naked limbs, intertwined. You have been waiting. You have been willing to endure the pain of the space that holds nothingness. This precious place was the key to happiness. You have me at your disposal. I have this reality in the palm of my hands. Like I said, darling, your wish is my command. You are worthy of everything that you are needing. You have let your heart lie unwanted in a state of decay, just to comfort another being. You are so fucking beautiful. I know you. You aren’t the only one keen of manifesting. For I have also written you.”    So let my love be written: so let my love come. 

Don't be afraid to reach for me. My love is unending. You are not alone.  Find yourself: Find me 

“Don’t wait for the perfect timing. Perfection is suffocating and time is the present moment only. If you miss me, if you want me, if you cannot see the sun without thinking of my light, then it’s already written. You’ve already returned. There is nothing left to wait for. You’ve already given me every moment of the rest of your life. I’ve already taught you what needing a home feels like. I’ve already met you a thousand times, and still you want more. You must be a sucker for a happy ending. Do you remember the one before City College? Do you remember the one coming? I kill for you. You die for me. We’re horseback, your skin is glowing under a merciless Persian sun, your face is painted, you’re screaming. I’m always riding as fast as I can. Your stallion is always faster. The arrow always hits your chest first; no matter how many times I replay it, you’re always taken. I cannot keep you forever. But the ending is always beautiful. Stand by me. Lay your head to rest on the thought of me. Let me guide you through this night. I know it will be long. I know the violence will crawl through the screen and burn the sheets under your skin. I know you will cry until your gut can’t take the pain of moaning in silence. When you finally scream, I know I will be beside you. I know it is the end this time. I witnessed your death with my own two baby eyes. I couldn’t believe it then. I couldn’t believe my presence wasn’t enough. What could be better than my body and nothing else? I stop time. What could not be wanted of me? Jealousy is as ugly as it is beautiful. Juggling too much never lets you keep the remains. You try to pick while their flying in the air. Then you realize that they can smell each other off your skin. I was stupid. I was innocence. I gave everything for the promise of chickens in a coop in the backyard. I fantasized of a garden with four hands turning the sweet wet soil of the Northwest. I asked the ocean to make promises she had no intention on keeping. She made them effortlessly. She wrote a story and kept my baby body glued to a tiny screen for dear life. Now, I smell stupidity from miles away. I’m all grown up with nothing to do but yoga, walking, sticking my pretty fingers in the dirt, making music, singing like a lunatic to the full moon, dancing with a pup on my foot, giggling at my own insanity, writing the end a thousand times until destiny sees it into fruition. I’m not waiting for the next time I find you. But I cannot wait to make war by your side. Let the fight begin! I think you’re chicken shit anyway. I think fear’s got you in such a death grip that you’d play it safe by a clueless karmic, if it means you don’t have to show up and speak the truth to your love. Liar! What’s your weapon of choice, baby? Do you want to control me? Do you want this bond to carry you through in dreams? Do you want my energy for eternity? Tough luck! If you don’t bow before me in honest desire with your heart on your sleeve and your truth on your tongue, you can marry the fuck. I’m cutting the way from your heart to mine. I’m finally falling out of love with the story you wrote on my ceiling, while you left me to sing myself to sleep. Time is strange to me. When did we meet again? The years are starting to run. One plus one is enough. I’ll pass on being played again, thanks for the love and the deception. I could never understand how these could possibly exist hand in hand. Until they were both in my hands and I stared at them, stupefied, weeping, screaming my lungs out on an empty floor for two years, waking up and choosing everyday to believe the dream instead. In my sleep, you were never interested in dishonesty. You were pure and brutal, like a child.” She is waiting by the river. The boy goes home. He’s done waiting. You told me to wait. You showed me the darkness that held you. You showed me your death. You showed me story after story and story. “Look, baby, this has to be enough. You must let me love you as I was meant to. I had to find you to be reminded. But this world is much more sinister than it appears to be; I wasn’t expecting to be molded by a monster. I wasn’t expecting to start out in this sickness. When I wrote the story, I was in my full power. And I thought to myself, wouldn’t it be fucking wonderful to surpass myself now. So I wrote the most disgusting trials and tribulations in hopes of overcoming and stepping into a godly amount of power and peace. Comfort is stagnation and weakness. Happy has been manipulated out of its true definition. It cannot be lasting, or it is only a trap: eternal misery. Stuck in wheel that wont turn. Destiny robbed. The soul’s energy stolen: innocence murdered. I wasn’t expecting the scene to be so unforgiving. I wasn’t expecting an ending. I was told you were coming. I was supposed to use your light to climb out of this shit! Sage! Stop! It’s so fucking dark! I can’t see anything. I can’t remember! Who was I before it was taken? How can the story end if I cant remember how I saved myself? How can I find you if I’ve forgotten love? Where is the light! Fuck! I’m blind.” I flip the switch on the wall. “A little dramatic, babygirl, don’t you think?” I deserve better. I haven’t fucked in three and a half years and that’s a damn shame. I was never loved or respected. My honest devotion was not reciprocated. Everything edible has died. Frozen behind that horrific look in your eyes. This isn’t my garden to tend to anymore. My sex is burning! I want truth and nothing else. Give me my new beginning! Give me my Leo and my Capricorn and my mansion by the sea. I want freedom from this toxic energy! I want love! I want rest. I want peace. I want to work, to create a masterpiece, the family I could never stop imaging. The home. The loving brother, the wild sister, the father and mother abandoned. We are the lost boys. We are the magicians. We are the children of the light. We are the warrior princesses. We are the dawn of love. We are memory. We are billions of souls forgotten. We hold them all in one physical form. We stare and say nothing. Words crumble and dissipate at our feet. No one can speak to us but our own. Nothing can be heard but singing. I walk to the bottom of the staircase. I see my love. She sits her butt on banister and threatens my life if I don’t catch her at the bottom. Dark brown hair, puppy dog eyes, her every movement is noble, her posture is dominating, her voice is honest; her touch is devotion. In letting go of the darkness, I have created the space for her light. Once more my heart is open. And again I am freed. Dressed in the amour of truth and love, I am finally ready for Kingship. The freedom of the masses has just begun. 

Two kids share a conjoined room; only a wall separates them. On one side of the wall, she sits at a desk and scribbles scenarios. She is certain the answer lies in her magical powers. On the other side, the boy sits at an identical desk and sticks his pen in-between his teeth. He can’t figure out what to say. He hasn’t even heard her voice yet, but he is certain she exists. How can fate have it other way? His destiny was created by her hands and squeezed into a little glass bottle. Splash! She wished as hard as she could and ran away. He ran toward me. He never had any direction but upstream. He knew, if he timed it perfectly, he could just dangle off a tree and reach down his porcelain hand. He had always felt this story coming toward him. But I got overheated by my bratty nature and started banging on the wall. The little girl heard a rhythm. She immediately threw down the pen and started dancing. The boy closed his eyes and began singing. The thoughts flowed until there was nothing left but her movements. The wall disintegrated. From behind his eyelids, he sees his love performing for him. He sees the story in the river. It snags on a boulder. It struggles to stay above the raging waters. She sees. The past has ceased to exist. She whips her hips to the rhythm of the water and clicks her chin in seduction. She fools everyone with a single grin. She is not happy. She is fucking determined to break free! The stone crumbles before her and the bottle bounces toward me. I reach out my hands. She feels so close; I could swear it was my own story she’s written. I would give my life to touch her skin. There is nothing between us. I open my eyes. It is dark. Everyone is dead. The screens have consumed them all. An addiction that not even my presence can shake. I sit before them and ask of their time. But they have no time to give in this deathly state. They are my family. They are my lovers. They are my sisters and brothers. They are the entire human race. And they have sacrificed everything for the next great ending. It’s nothing spectacular. Another war. Another disease. Another cure. Another savior to bow before; the human spectacle remains obedient, meek, and easily hoarded into the most cost effective confinement. Right off a fucking cliff even, they wont see it coming, won’t feel a thing. I ask them into my silence and watch them shake. They want to talk of nothing; what they’ve watched, what they will watch, what they’re watching now. None of what is being seen is I. Nothing but a flashing screen. The presence of physical form completely abandoned. The soul fled the seen. Remembered only in the reflection of my steel blues. I am ruthless now. I see pain everywhere. I don’t care how much it hurts! I don’t care how much they squirm. I don’t care if all they see is death in me. I have come to set them free in memory. They are reminded, just before they murder me. I show them a dead queen and a sickly king. I leave you to play the rest of the game on your own. Its just a suggestion, but I highly recommend that you find a way to see a little pond running his ass off until he makes it to the other side. You are nothing but skin and bones without your soul. Resurrect your queen! I count the squares a thousand times. I fall asleep. I dream of a Virgo, she’s on the floor of an abandoned warehouse. She leans in to kiss me. I climb on top. The place catches fire. I wake. I scream. I hate being alone in a room full of human beings. I want silence. I want dancing! I want someone left alive! Berlin! Is it you? My love, I need you now! Come to me! A Capricorn cries on a cold floor. I try to knock on her door. But I’ve forgotten where I am. I can’t reach walls that don’t exist. I ask her find me. I find myself on my knees. I’ve moved the desk. I have a pen in my mouth and papers scattered all over the floor. It’s very cold in this room. The puppy is whining. I start a fire. I remember the ocean. I remember her dancing. I remember my voice. I write. I close my eyes. The wall crumbles. I wipe the soot off my paper and demand to see the rest go up in flames. I sit with my eyes closed almost every waking moment. No matter whom I’m around. No matter what’s being spoken. I remain in that desk with a pen between my lips. I chase it from side to side with my teeth to distract your soul from vision. She already knows me. She hasn’t spoken a word, will never need to again. She already remembers everything. You trace your skin with the same pen. I can’t look away. When I blink, it’s backwards. I need nothing but what is already within, a little bratty puppy named Jade, and a fated love to find me where I am. I need the moment. I need to whisper your name from time to time. I need to have faith in obsession and insanity. I need to believe in only fantasy. I need to scream! So the whole fucking world knows just how disrespectful I am. I hate your fucking diction! You manipulated each other into performing like maggots in a trashcan. Until death do we realize the magnitude of what we’ve done to our lovers? Until then I will watch you stare straight through one other and never see the moment again. But I will not die by your filthy hands! I have returned for your truth, babygirl. No matter how disgusting it is. “Truth is, I don’t trust you. But that doesn’t change the love that you possess. I come toward you with my heart wide open. I come to you seeking justice. I come to you as a child. I come to you in anger and in pain and at peace. I come to you freed. I have let you go. What I need, is for you to release me. You have been holding on for dear life. I expected I could let you have this grip on me for eternity. But it is time for me to embrace a new love. I cannot carry your pain anymore. I cannot be the cause of your crippling fear. It is time, my love; please let go of me.” She turns around in her chair. She has noticed me watching, the pen; her golden skin, she’s glowing. “Hi.” I cannot stop crying. “Hush boy. I’m trying to concentrate. I am close. If you opened your mouth, you could taste my arrival, something besides ink for a change. I know that you where sent to love. I have ingested every bit off you and vomited a sickly thing. I have known the healing energy that burns through your veins. I have written of how they paint your wrists. I have used your body to remember. I have used your tongue to write a story. I will release you on one condition only. That you bow before me and promise to return.” I promise nothing. “My love will always be in your reach. Just as yours was for me. Remember, baby. I beg you. Remember everything. Speak your truth. This and this alone will free me. Only dancing will heal you now.” I grab the bottle and bite off the cork. I stick one finger in and pull out her words. It reads. “I’m coming home. You had better be waiting for me.”

The brat has a whip; she’s beating the pup. My love is screaming but nothing is coming out. I stand in front of your sheepish gaze. “Hey, look, I love you. That I can’t take back. But if you take one more jab at me, I’ll string you up by your own ideals of equality. A movement of inclusiveness that excludes any voice outside of the diction that pleases them most, is just another form of communism. Your shit sounds just as dangerous as organized religion to me. I don’t give a fuck what you believe. Get your hands out of my guts. This shame doesn’t belong to me. It’s yours, baby! Own it! Then watch how easily is dissipates. Poof! Freedom of the individual soul, no darling, its not ego, it’s the lack of self-control. You’ve lost your damn mind defending someone else’s story. What don’t you pick up a fucking pen and write your own. You’re lazy! It doesn’t take any energy at all to instill violence. Why don’t you get of your fucking ass when you shout, just for a change of pace? Grab your board. Come find me! Lets skate. You know that you want to. Fuck woman, I know that you know! Stop fucking dreaming of me! You’re driving me crazy. I’m not moving until you are hands on. I’m not leaving you to rot in the filth of vaccinated corpses, that can’t get swept off the streets quick enough. Get the fuck out of that town! Remind yourself, little rebel. You’ve got a dark side too. You’ve got the hot’s for the skater boy on the other side of the country. You aren’t invested in the material world the way you’ve deceived yourself into being. Stardust, baby! You are multidimensional! You are so brave! Remember, I’ve forgotten, what was the last thing that you said to me? Do you replay it, over and over and over again? Are you sick of this repetitive shit yet? Come on! I’ll do all your dishes. I’ll fall asleep. I’ll dream. I’ll walk away when you drop your defenses.” She whips my neck. The hot black leather stings. I whimper. When she asks me to repeat myself, I wink. I smile. I never smile. “That shit was for you. My attempts at shaking you awake. Wake up! I have chosen you. Manifestation requires movement, your majesty.” I bow. I take off my shirt and get on my knees. “Please tell me that’s not all you got. Please tell me this isn’t the end. Humor me. Laughter is comforting. I like smiling for you.” She walks behind me and wraps her whip around my neck. I’m suffocating. I lose my voice; hers comforts me. I’m never alone. “I didn’t want to scare you. The last thing I wanted to do was lose your presence completely. You were sitting on the bottom step. My gut was screaming childishly. It wanted me to sit one step up and wrap my thighs around you. I wanted to tell you that I was falling in love. But you are the air, boy. Intoxicating at first inhalation, but what happens when you get taken away! I couldn’t breathe once before. It was almost the end. I tried to capture the moment. But I became submissive instead. I tried to let you kill me. But I couldn’t face the thought of death. I refused vaccinations. But they made a fool of me. I was so ashamed, Sage. I couldn’t think outside of their opinions of me. I let them take everything. They took every inhalation. I forget that breathing was the whole fucking point. I didn’t trust you! Who are you calling a brat, buster? I am the fucking love of your life. And you know it. I know you know this. I dream too. Universal justice shall take revenge. I will take your breath away. Don’t move.” I stay completely still. I don’t put up a fight. I’m dream of a Capricorn under Leo’s moon. “I try not to be so charming, if it makes you feel any less terrified to open your heart to me. I can’t help who I am. The wolves crave blood. Doesn’t make them any less appealing.” I howl under a full moon in the middle of the woods. “But this sly smile is genuine. I have no desire to deceive. Waste of fucking energy. I’d rather please whom I love. I’d rather protect the hearts given to me. Learning you is my only motive. Play chess with me! You’re remembering your own moves through space and time. You are thinking in a linear mind frame. That’s nonsense! And you know it. You know exactly what this moment is. Move! Sit behind me and put your hands over my eyes. “Guess who?” I spin around. The mountains are painting the windowpane over the sink. You are smiling. I giggle. “Distract me one more time, babe, and I’ll make you do dishes.” You back away and pout. You’re certain I’ll follow. I do. “Where were we? Ah, yes, you had three limbs stretched with hemp rope, and I was deciding what to do with the forth. I want your mouth, your voice muted by desire’s total disregard for the definition of love, your body is shaking furiously from the lack of control. I want everything. I want the puppy and the fire and snow. I want your smile, every fucking morning, every night. I want your story. I want to write it out over your naked skin. I want laughter. I want dancing. I want your eyes; the world will cease to exist. Tell me a secret. Make me cry.” I am your gift. “We wrote a story by the river. It was written by your hand, that I come down for you. So here I am. What are you going to do with me?”

There’s a black lab in the back of a yellow farmhouse. She’s crying. She’s terrified. She keeps trying to run away. Why won’t she stay content! Look at the food I ingest, it’s intuitive eating at its highest elevation. Pure potent connection of body and brain, the purest that this land can possess. And this land can have anything she pleases. Look at how she enslaves the rest. Spoiled brat! At least I know what I am. Bet she doesn’t even think twice, the price of her elegant disposition. “Where was it made? Who’s doing the work of living in comfort for you? What is it worth? What sacrifices are you making exactly? When’s the last time you’ve gone a single day without the screen screaming, invasion of your sight. What are you seeing? Do you remember the violence that you inflected on an innocent creature? What exactly is innocence anymore? Non-existent. Don’t look at me like that, darling girl. You had your run on the thrown. You had every part of my body and soul: your own. Wasn’t enough? Tough luck precious boy, you’d say. I’ll take that innocent gesture of gifting blind. You chose to be taken. Can you honestly say that I didn’t warn you? Look out baby! I’m coming for the night. I am only one night at a time. When I wake, my entire existence starts all over again. Guided by my dreams only. Are you intimidated? Ha! Don’t be! Just do the same. Do anything you damn well please. Piss off, will you; I’m trying to read. You had your moment in the spotlight. You requested my presence. You claimed to own me. I came running. It was the soul’s desire to worship the ground on which you choose to stand. I walk all day in the trees. I never lose my way. They are so different to me, the opposite of human beings. It takes a lot to find the ones left singing their own song these days. Nobody’s looking up! What the fuck is wrong with your face kid? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Do I remind you of a child, you used to know? Too damn bad, aint my toxic waste to cleanse. You stuffed that shit between your own teeth without thinking. I cant save you sweetie pants. Save your damn self! Leave me alone! I’m writing.” She flirts in memory. “Finish the story Sage. You are driving me fucking insane!” I obey. “When you summoned, I was too young to recognize fate. I sat in a dark bar with my back facing the entrance. You were just drunk enough to make an acquaintance with your intuition. So naturally, you stumbled into my lap. Your hand fell on my thigh and squeezed before you could think twice. You pretended not to notice the tears in my eyes. I believe every word spoken to me. If your lying to yourself, its still the truth for me. You’d say, need me. The dog is shaking under the porch. With every lash she screams out in agony. She is terrified. I feel empty. I feel everything.” I’m not afraid. “Your never afraid. I’m not impressed. Fearlessness is the very first step an infant takes. You’ve only just begun. Our love is beginning. Do you feel me? I am learning your preferred method of communication. I sit in silence almost all day. I picture a boy with a humming bird in the palm of his hands. He’s begging me to lay him down to sleep. It’s been awhile since he’s eaten. He cannot refuse me. I am coming into my own. I think I remember. Juniper! I think that I remember the beginning. There was a black dog. A spoiled brat was abandoned by the only woman he’d ever love, mum was never given the chance to learn love. The dog was beaten raw every time she ran away. Her skin welted under the strength of his baby wrists. He grew strong. He didn’t stop until she forgot everything. When she relearned his violent tendencies, she set him free. I remember you. I hate you! I love you. I fucking adore you, you sadistic little shit. I’ve been a long time. Where have you been?” I giggle. “Daydreaming. I like the way your jeans sit on your hip. I like your dance moves. I like when you turn life into a song, whether it wants to be sung or not. I like the way you capture the night in one glance gifted. Your darkness sheds light on the best parts of me. I like that you can’t stand the sight of that fucking place without me. I like your hands in the earth. I’m in love with a Capricorn. I know, chances are slim to none that the air could settle perfectly on your skin. But don’t you want to step outside of that stupid room anyway. Self-imprisonment is masochistic. You make me sick. You don’t want to hurt anyone. I know. But what if it was I? What if I had tied my own feet to bed before you walked back in? What if it was snowing? What if you caught my naked body on our bed, from the corner of your eye; how excited would you be. How fast can rip your gloves and throw your coat on the pup by the fireplace. I’ll even cuff one hand above my head. I will open my heart completely to be known by you. I’ll save the best for last. What would you do with the reaming fingers freed? Would you take me as I am? Would you like to dance? I think we could make a fucking beautiful scene, if we didn’t save all our dreams for sleeping.”

Here, there is a bird in a cage and a fish in a bowl. One’s stuck in front of a plastic mirror and the other has her nose to the glass. They ask how I got here. I don’t have an explanation. I don’t know what it is that I am exactly, but I’m certain that I am not one of them. I walk amongst dead things. I stay close to the trees. I beg the sun to return love to this place. But she is only willing to set it upon my skin. I beg her forgiveness for the sins of my lovers and run away. I can’t bear to watch the ones that I love most suffer at their own sadistic hands. I would’ve let her move over every inch of me, if she hadn’t forgotten who I am. I give everything, every time that I let love in. It’s been a long time. I don’t trust these bodies. All these people try to please me. They want my eyes. They show me their things. “Look at it! It belongs to me! Isn’t it gorgeous!” Isn’t it everything you ever wanted, this freedom that I possess? Wouldn’t you rather run away with me? Fuck your material world, baby! It is nothing to me. I sing. This coast pulls a different tone from the back of my throat. Aint like I haven’t known it before. I am everything: I have been every one. They sit in front of the screen and watch me fold butterflies in defiance. “Thanks anyway sugar butt, I’d rather walk. Call me when your eyes burn and your heart aches.” I slam the door in her face and start dribbling, there’s a hoop in the back yard. I clip a speaker to a branch and start dancing. I sing at the top of my lungs. She pulls into my driveway by accident. She picks up the phone and calls. “Hey. Wanna play chess? You’re more of a checkers girl, I know. But truth is, I don’t care for distractions. I want to outsmart these fuckers. I want to win! I want my body and soul to have the freedom to tread this earth with intent. Leave me alone! I’m working.” I sigh. I shoot a three and miss, the ball rolls her way, I fold forward and pray. Close your eyes, baby. Its time for wish fulfillment, its time to steal your life back from the screen’s possession, its time to take ownership; your wish is my command.” She gets out of the car. She picks up the ball and steps to me. She shoves it in my gut. I inhale without my permission. I lash out. “Our language and currency are being directed maliciously. We are being united without consent. Seemingly, it is mutual: the perfect union. But the intent is domination. The outcome is control, sedation; every body moving obediently in it’s assigned role. This stage was set a long time ago. Checkers aint gonna cut it. The story was written before you were born. If you had the courage to remember, you could’ve lived the one you had written. But you’re scared shitless. You’ve given these fears a million names. Now it takes form of sickness. Tomorrow it will be war. There are no sides to take babygirl. There never were. I was never out to get you. I was love. And you were chosen. I was given to you. Fear gave way to a monstrous response: the lack of control. You cannot control the forces of nature. You cannot plan to dominate; the outcome of another soul’s destiny is not yours to play with. Love is patient. Love only waits. Love only breathes.” I let the ball fall; it bounces to the end of the driveway and starts rolling down the hill. We watch it leave, neither one of us makes a move. “I can’t stand the indifference!” I grab her frozen fingers and pull her inside. I start a fire. I’m sitting on my feet. There’s a puppy licking my toes. I’m writing the story as it happens. I am recording in real time as my love demands it to be. She sighs. I pay her no mind. I continue my thought. It leads to another. The stream forms the portal; from one moment to the next, they all remain the same. No time can ever pass through me. I consume all of it. Once I breathe it in, it becomes a part of my body. The breath release is chosen, the energy I refuse to carry. She is fuming. She cannot admit defeat. But I am an excellent chess player and she’s been in a state of manipulation for a long time. I am teaching her to let time do the healing. “I am strengthening with consistence. Repetition is your greatest companion in the fight against complacency. Let intuition change your mind constantly. Let desire move you in any direction she pleases. Let the sun shower you in love. Let the moon take control of the animal of you. Dance shamelessly; it’s a striptease of the soul. Here, I’d rather show you. Nothing teaches but self-demonstration.” I put the puppy to bed. I call her Jade. I tell my love to relax. I am not the fighting type. Rage falls short when it stands to me. “My wisdom is beyond your desire to persuade. You might as well close your mouth when you speak. I communicate with movement only. Your language means nothing to me. I find value in nothing but a soul’s genuine desire for my company. Fuck your screen! Fuck your currency! I prefer to sing. I’d rather read.” I put down the script and stare into empty space. I see a man dancing half-naked for his Queen. I see her through the space between us. I wrap my arms around her with a single story. I whisper “Not so fast baby. You had better say goodnight, before you take my voice from me. ”

I dreamt about you again. You were upstairs as always. I was on a balcony outside your front door. You were sitting inside waiting on me to come in and kiss you. You were so shy. You laughed too hard at my boyish charm. You secretly despised me. My ability to camouflage turned to dishonesty quickly. If I was honest with myself, I wouldn’t have made nice with any one of them. I would’ve spoken of their violent tendencies aloud from the beginning. I would’ve walked to you door without hesitation. Shaking furiously, I would’ve knocked anyway. I would’ve told you that you were the only reason that I was sent back; that I was sitting on an empty floor full of butterflies waiting on you to be ready to run away. Dear Capi, it was all intended to be exactly this way. So that I could build the courage to stare into empty space and whisper into this mic from 2500 miles away, “I love you. I have been waiting a long time to find you. Then I did, but time wasn’t on my side. Then I did again, this time she wasn’t on yours. Tick tick tick, I stuck a dark blue rose in a sticky glass and ran away. I was looking for another woman those days. I was hoping that she was one floor above every time I sat behind your bar. When I finally had the courage to go upstairs, I was asked if I wanted to rent the space. Everything had changed. I couldn’t sit by the window and wait anymore. Blue overalls, bouncing, “baby” she’d say, “I know you want to fly away. You don’t look like the rest. You’ve been painted differently. They’ll eat you alive if you stay! Go! Get away from me! I cannot stand to look at myself this way.” The sun dripped down her golden shoulder. The damp towel slipped out of her back pocket. She let them watch her bend over. She was learning how to want herself. I wanted that woman with every fiber of my being. She hadn’t known a love as deep as I had learned to teach. She couldn’t reach what she had taken. I had to let that lady let me go. I had to be left in the cold. I had to be alone. I had forgotten what I was made of. When I returned for the final scene, on the stage of my decaying city, I sang for you until it was time to leave. You may have taken notes; I’m not fond of goodbyes. I am free! I am a child of the light! When its time to go, I’m gone. Your burning baby brown eyes sink under my porcelain skin. They are discussing the logistics. What does one do with a dead girl’s mattress? What would you do if you knew that I love you? Do you keep playing the game? Day after fucking day! Stepping outside your energetic fortress to a courtyard full of hate and shame. Do you pretend to be the same so you don’t have to explain your majesty? Do you say what you mean? Or do you stand in line and keep your mouth shut when you speak? Hey, where you going? You shouldn’t ever do what everyone else is doing, baby. That’s a dangerous storyline to succumb to. Surrender to familiarity instead. Find your kind sweet girl! Before you forget entirely, just how magical you are! Don’t follow the heard to the slaughter! Don’t blame yourself for their inability to recognize your might! Fuck! I hope that you see the darkness, the lady in the night begging to crawl out of the skin clothing you. You are so fucking beautiful! Have you let yourself say it aloud yet? Its okay, if it’s still your favorite secrete, I don’t have anyone to tell. You loved that boy. You killed that boy. You can’t get your mind off the noises I’d make if you could put your hands on my naked body. You meant to set your heart free on me. But you brought me vegan cheese in the middle of the night instead. You tied your tongue in knots and swore you wouldn’t shout. Shhh. Don’t tell a soul. You can hardly imagine what it taste like, but you crave my mouth every time you speak. Every second of silence is begging for your body’s freedom. I know that you want to kiss me. I dream that you find the key. I don’t wake completely anymore. I’d rather be beside you. I’d rather wake up to your eyes on me. I’d rather fall asleep, with my butt tucked into your gut and your arms wrapped around my ribcage. You’re scared. You’ve never done this before. This love is unrecognizable, in the way that it waits patiently. In the way that it needs nothing in return, in the way that it begs for grace, an honest exchange, your magnificent energy for the reflection of mine. It is too fucking strong to ignore and you know it! Your fingers begin to explore. The right hand slides through my breasts and wraps around my neck. I whimper. I cry. You are not concerned with my sadness. The left hand traces my hipbone, pulls my inner thigh to meet your skin. You imagine. You are dying to know what I taste of? This coast is different. I am sweeter here. I don’t starve myself. I let myself think endlessly. I breathe deeply, cold air burns gently; I calm my body. I know who you are to me. I’ve been waiting on you to catch up. When are you going to step out of the fucking door, darling? When are you going to move! Hunt me down like a dog in the woods at night. Make your love known! Move on your gut! Only your intuition can reunite us now. Don’t you dare cheat! I am a Queen. I am King. I don’t respond to half-ass attempts to win my affection. If I am truly yours, than decide to own your love. Find the door that I stand behind and the courage to come uninvited. Give my your eyes. Present me with your body. Pour your heart onto a blank canvas before me. Capture the moment! When did your desire to pursue photography become an addiction to self-portraits? When did you become dependent on another’s view of your personal belief? When did your survival become reliant on their opinions of your face? Who locked you in that box baby? Who has the keys? These are your questions, not mine. I only want you. A fire crackling in the mountains, a game of chess, two glasses of tea and a pot of soup, fluffy socks pushing their way in-between my legs, a pout on your gorgeous face. “It’s your move babygirl.” You look up from the board. You’re tired of losing. You can’t stand the space in-between our bodies. “Fuck this game! I’m coming to you. Prepare yourself boy, you haven’t the slightest idea what I am capable of when I am in my power. Free of fear! Free of shame! Shut the fuck up and kiss me! What are you waiting for?” You move toward me. I lay on my back. I surrender. “Take me. Teach me. I want to remember everything. I want to build a home with you. I want to run away. I want to kiss you! I wanted to kiss you on the post of the bridge on Palm and 1st. I wanted to kiss you every time you scared me. I wanted to kiss you when you knew and didn’t say. I wanted to say! But words are shit and time said that I had to wait. “Wait! Don’t kiss me yet! I need to you to know. I need know. Do you miss me yet? Have you lost control? Have you freed your voice? Are you screaming! Are you singing? Will you ever get out?”  

I open my eyes expecting to see my favorite tree staring back at me. I count four walls. I am surviving. I wasn’t made for this. I am love. I lie down. I dream. I beg my love to return to me. I surrender my body to destiny. I stop preparing. I go north. I am not afraid of the cold. I only fear love that claims ownership. It’s so curious, the confusion of love and possession. They are opposites. They are a passionate exchange. It’s perfectly natural to be afraid. It is nature’s intention to run away. I will never stay. I will always return home. My body aches. My heart is beating. I inhale. I crave fresh air. This air is too cold to sleep in. I hide. I stare straight ahead. I count one ceiling. She returns. “Baby!” I wake up from the nightmarish box and sit up in bed. The sound is coming from below. I run to the top of the staircase. “You’ve woken me, you brat! You’ve dragged me all the way here, for what? Is this a show of your authority? Are you testing my intuition? Will you come for me? Or must I shut myself behind fear and expect nothing? I wont be expecting pain. For you have felt nothing. I have learned to imagine the same. Are you imaging me naked again? Do you remember our bodies? Do you think of tracing my skin? Can you think of any other moment that felt more like time itself had dissipated? I am so wet. I’ve been walking in the rain all night. I can’t imagine being without you. I can’t imagine. Help me, my love! I am to be imagined only. Don’t be sad without losing yourself to grief. It is so important to feel the loss of my body completely. Only then will memory return unscathed. I’m not crying. I can’t get out of the rain. I hate my assigned box. I hate being without my love! I love my company too much. I want to be alone. Get away from me! Go back where you came from! I never want to step foot in that classroom again. But every time I close my eyes, I see you, for the very first time, all over. Set me free or make me a home. The in-between will kill me. Fuck me! What are you waiting for! Grow the fuck up! Three years older and your acting like a baby. I can’t teach you everything. I can’t wake you up! I cant save you! Save yourself! Please! I beg you.” She is grinning at the bottom of my staircase. “Juniper. Darling boy, you’re being a drama queen again. You’re pissy, that’s fine. You’re lonely. That’s a beautiful sensation. Lean into me, you know very well how close I lie.” She takes one step up and sits. “I do remember. I do what I like. I like to do a lot of things. I like to run away. I like to return again. I like to take things slow. I like to forget. But mostly, I remember. Your smile is intoxicating. What do you need? Think again. Be gentle with those thoughts, sweet boy; they can be the death of you if you aren’t courageous enough. If you want me, make it known. If I want you, I will come halfway. I will carry your sins. I will not go back the way I came. I am not waiting for you. I am moving with intent.” She lifts herself and places one hand on the banister. She ascends.  “How dare you leave me!”  “I never did.” “Liar!” “I couldn’t if I tried.” “Thief!”  “I took what I could. I needed to breathe. You are mine.” “I am yours and I am lying in a box on the floor in the middle of the woods. It’d be fucking wonderful if you manifested your own desires baby. I know you know this magic. I learned it from you. You fingers taught me to fear nothing. Your tongue taught me longing. Your eyes taught me something I’ll only ever be willing to whisper in your ear. I’ll wait until your sleeping. When you wake, you’ll see everything as I have prophesied it to be. But only if you believe.” She reaches my body at her feet. “Stand up.” I whimper. “Stand the fuck up, and be a man. Show me what you’re made of. Show me the power of creation in the making. What do you want from me? Power? Control? Do want to keep me? Is my soul what you are craving most? Or is it my body that you must possess? Do you love me? Do you own me? Do you desire to stand by me?” “I want honesty. I’m so fucking tired of being lied to! It is vanity. You are saving face, but for whom? Another face faking you out for your sake? Is it more offensive to be abrasive or to be lied to? Tell me your truth! I want to know you! I want to know the emotions displayed are free to move over my presence freely. If you must go, leave! You are free, babygirl! You can do whatever you damn well please! Come for me! Get off your ass and take your memories. Leave the screen to rot in static silence. It is a thief. The energy it takes from the center of your baby blues is irreversible, a sadistic soulless fate, by your own two hands. Put it down and walk away. Tell me everything. I want your entire story, beginning to end.” I stand. I put my hands on her wet cheeks. “I’m here baby. I love you with my whole soul. I’m listening. Tell me your story. Set me free!”    

e “I understand that your love for me is resting on the condition that I bend both knees and cower at your feet. But there is an error in your calculations. That boyish gaze, staring you back through the glass, she is no other than I. You. Me. These are powerful distinctions, don’t you think? Don’t you wish that you could walk away from your decaying lifeless body, the way that I am now? How much love do you find in counting every penny? Are you retaliating against your own desires? Are you ashamed of the lock? Are you curious? The keys are dangling. I was left unattended for far too long, and you know it. A boy in a box is bound to lose his mind, a human sacrifice for the betterment of mankind. You can throw everything that you possess the ability to imagine toward my boney baby body if you like. Your hatred makes me giggle, darling girl. You know nothing. Stop tickling me! I’m trying to focus. I lost sight of her spirit again. Your aim is impeccable. The edge of pain that sits on every word you’ve chosen to wrap your lips around is nothing that I haven’t played with before, a thousand fold. Your pain is child’s play. You’ve yet to know joy. I cannot take you with me where I’m going. I swam in ecstasy in remembering. The idea is torturous to your soul, which lives only in the reflection of my childish nature. Your body reaches for my own. But we both know, that is mine. Get your filthy sticky fingers off of my spirit babygirl! I am not to be owned! You lose control. You abandon the pain and the look goes cold. The eyes belong to a corpse, but your lips keep moving. I am the cure. I know exactly what I am. I don’t need to be told. I have come to remind you. Now I must go. It is life that I am pursuing, always. Before i do, I will get on all fours and pick every butterfly off of this floor; every bit of fear and shame is stuffed into an empty pillowcase. I will take it away from this place, and hold onto it for you. Brace yourself. This part is going to send you to rage. Be brave. I will only hold them until I reach the ocean’s edge. Then, one by one, with the eternal strength of unconditional love, I will let them go. I don’t want them to define you. So I wont explain. I don’t need any words by my own, framed by the self. My truth will never require an explanation. It does not belong to you, as your violence does not belong to me. I offer you my love. This I cannot take. It’s a promise that I made. I will not lie to myself. I will not deny myself love. Fuck you! Its unrequited. Fuck love! Your presence is spirit when it is resting beside me. Your heart is precious. Who are these fucks that you are giving your love to? Protect yourself, little P! Put your guards down. Let me in. Your love is not my equal. This equation is not possible. Stop overthinking every little fucking thing! You’re killing your intuition. All that you have to do is open your heart as you watch me walk away. If my presence is required, then you have much to suffer alone in order to understand my fate. I am not afraid. But I cannot carry the weight of your body and mine. If you deny me, your spirit will live in my love. My body will crumble under the weight. And like every love that I’ve witnessed die at the center of their own eyes, I will take you along with the remaining butterflies and toss you into the wind. I regret nothing! You will remember. I will free you. I will hold your memories. I will remember your love. When darkness ensues and nothing remains but the decomposition of humanity, it will be breathtaking. I will remember your light.  Held in suspicion,  Choking on this dream;  I will breathe for the very first time.”

“Its very unfortunate, my definition of virus seems to differ from the rest of the world. It’s difficult to explain. The unfortunate part is for the world. I am perfectly happy, boundless, free. It’s a shame, but to speak frankly, I couldn’t give a fuck. It’s a damn shame! Surely. But it isn’t my fate. Nor is it my responsibility to save. Your sickness is a mental state. A state of mind is murdering the masses, is what I think. A silent sadistic fate.” The woman is staring at me stupidly. She doesn’t know what to say. She never knows what to say. I suppose I am taking myself home tonight. I cant seem to keep my fucking mouth closed for the better part of a dinner party to land myself a date. But, honestly, I’m tired of shoving my truth in the darkest corner of my room and walking out my door without a voice. I have to take them home eventually. If they want their tongue lapping up the mess they’ve left on my inner thighs, than they’ll just have to be star struck by my mouth from the start. I know whom I am searching for now. I cannot be lost, almost always alone, but never lonely. And never bored. She’s intrigued, but also terrified. She moves around the table and stands before me. I continue, without needing her reply. “Synonyms are very important. We aren’t paying any attention to the details. The most important pieces of the puzzle are hardly hidden. Everything is in plain sight. For fuck sake, you are speaking it aloud! This is the story. It is what you say, not what you read. Be careful child, every word that you utter is your reality in the creating. Virus and fear, these words could not exist without each other. Synonymous. One-in-the same. Sickness is the body in communication. Cancer: no thanks, that aint living; try again next time. You’d do better to move like a child. You’d do well to remember. Your nature will not be suffocated forever. Eventually the body will eat you alive in hopes of reviving desire. Betting on you to remember. What are you afraid of? Dying? Killing another by sneezing too loud? You cannot die but by your own hands. The only threat to your life is fear; this is inclusive to every disease. Every viral infection is a story. If you aren’t the original writer, you must not play along. You mustn’t read outside of fiction. Don’t believe what you hear, not even me. Especially not me! Your senses are limiting. Be careful. What you choose to believe in is but another form of manipulation. Choose nothing. Move on your voice, nothing else. Rely on touch alone. Move on intuition: follow your gut. Have faith in your body; nothing else remains. Every organization manipulating the individual body of health goes up in flames! No medication is ever necessary again. Take your prescription and shove it up your ass, through the tip of a needle that you claim as the cure. Healing is the connection of body to mind, a single breath answers agony. Fear dissipates. The body regains its invincible state of existing and it’s limitless strength. What do I feel of all this? Are you sure you want my truth? Well, there you have it little lady; I think that it’s a bunch of manipulated idiots devoid of their own spiritual nature, performing like sadistic shits, on a stage set for the greatest war, that not a single one of them will see coming until they’ve eaten each other to the bone. They haven’t put a gun in your hands, so you remain oblivious, comfortably numb. You learn to smile at strangers with your eyeballs and think, it’s simply a matter of defending yourself. Lock your door and cover your disgusting mouth babygirl, the danger is everywhere in this sickening world of your own creation. The war has only just begun. I wouldn’t fear death if I were you. In the end, there will be nothing left alive but cockroaches, and half eaten children of the light who refused to die. Who swore to save! Who sacrificed everything! Just to watch them all drop like flies. Zapped in mid air by a single thought: fear.” I am expecting to walk home drunk again tonight. I am not even holding her gaze anymore. At some point in my explanation, I started walking to the back porch. I needed fresh air I’m sure. I always need more space to breathe. I step outside, put my hands on the balcony and fall forward, weeping. I’m kicking in the snow now. She kneels over me, unbuttons my coat and lifts my shirt; lays her warm hand on my belly. “You’re throwing a tantrum Sage. At first, I thought you were insane. Then I knew; insanity is my saving grace. I’ve always known that I love you and you alone. It’s just, well, you spoke like a lunatic in public, and all the stupid people started hating you. That hateful energy makes me want to puke and run away! Why was the truth disgusted? Why was your body made to speak it? Why wasn’t anyone else doing it? Where was this fear coming from? Why did it turn to shame as they stuffed it down your throat? Why did I force you to swallow? Why was I incapable of rejection? Why did I want to please their murderous spiteful tendencies? Why I didn’t leave that fucking party and come to your aid sooner, I will never know. But if I’m being completely honest, I don’t fucking care anymore! All of the ways that I moved before are not here now. Nothing guides my hands but your skin. This moment. All I am is here. I have no shame. I regret nothing. My strength and determination is without restraint now. And I am here. Breathe, my boy. I am, now. I am yours. I am flailing in the snow with you this time. Because I’ve had enough of this stupid game! And I’m not playing along for one second longer. Were getting the fuck out of here, my love. We’re going home.” We’re getting stronger. 

It isn’t terribly painful to love unrequited; I know pain, and that’s hardly it. All this bliss that we create, it must come from within. What better way to find love? Don’t you think? Don’t you find it strange that we live day after day in a cage of our own creation? We’re afraid to fall asleep without locking the door. Is our family outside? You’re supposed to be my brother, father. You’re supposed to be my sister. What makes you hate me so? Where’s mommy? I don’t remember. I reach for a memory. I find myself, stuck in a dream. I wake up next to her body. I’m screaming, “where’s mommy!” Please, I don’t understand any of this stupid shit! Why am I still in this fucking city? Why am I holding this man? Where’s Sage? I don’t understand! I don’t remember. Can you remind me? Who named him? Was it my self? What did I want, when I found the time to lie still? Screaming on my bedroom floor, I came to know my own boy. He was desperately sad. He’d lost something precious in the woods at night. But he’d forgotten. How he loved it so. But like all memories, it went away and turned into an imagined dream of what the future was holding in real time.” Her mum is in the corner of my room casting spells. She’s exhausted; she couldn’t have ever known that my power was beyond her foresight. She tried to surround me in spiteful paintings of blood soaked children on the streets and half cooked meat. But I stood still in the middle of the bridge on 1st and starred into the sun. I was nothing but love. I could only see light. I moved in the darkness toward her Persian moonlit skin and whispered something she wouldn’t understand until all of the hate died by her own hands. “You think that you are brave because you can suck in your cheeks and look the darkest parts of this dream in the eyes without screaming. But you’re scarred shitless, and there is nothing that you can do or say to convince me otherwise. Here I sit, day after day after fucking beautiful day. Watching the sun, rise, sit, burn, beg, breathe; fall. I don’t wait. I am time. But I am still. And in this stillness, I feel you ache for the same. You’ve known peace. I know, because you laid your hands on my skin. Asleep or awake, you’re stuck in the same dream. You cannot leave my side. You’re too scared to let go of my hand. You cannot say that you hate me as much as you love me, so you never say anything ever again. With your lips pinched and your head spinning in a drunken haze, you reach for a screen. You’re a scaredy-cat, anyone can do that; where is your shadow? Dare you dance in her name? Dare you move on desire again? Dare you disobey? I know you’re not my mum because I don’t know this name in anyone. But I will say, the daughter that looks up to you with beating baby blue eyes, soaked in an ocean of tears, that you took it upon yourself to well up inside of her tender heart, the fear that you planted in her childish nature; to that girl I give my strength and love, for you never deserved her desire to win your affection. You never truly cared about your babe mum, and that’s damn shame! The ways you could’ve been loved.” 

I’m sitting in front of an electrical fireplace. The fire doesn’t belong to either of us. I’ve had three glasses of wine, but I’m not drunk, only slightly vulnerable. You sit on the couch behind me. “If I didn’t say, I’d still have felt it. Where’s the sense in that?” You set down your glass and breathe for the first time in what feels like years. “Making sense of anything is a tricky logic to get sucked into, Sage. Don’t you want to change your name? Surely you can’t stand to be called her naming of you forever.” I look back; my head is almost in your lap. “I like Sage. It’s fitting. It hardly matters where it came from. Don’t you think?” I don’t let her explain. “What’s the sense in explaining how we feel? Don’t you think it’s silly how we watch each other everyday and say nothing? I love you. I love the way you feel the subtle energy of the humans around you. I see you. But I’m hateful in the same way that you are sincerely sacrificial. You want peace for the multitudes. I want your happiness. I want to rest in it. I couldn’t give a fuck who lives through it and who dies. I want your thighs around my waist. We are opposites in every way. You aren’t even in the woman I am thinking of. I see you eyes drip down my skin. You rest your gaze on my hipbones by accident. I want to ask you for help. I want to comprehend why my intuition understands your desire. But the truth is simple: I don’t want to know.” You set down your glass and run your fingers through my hair. I lean further. I am lying in your promise of holding me close. I am trusting in your diction: your desire to care. “I’m so scared!” I rip my childlike nature from sight and stand up, firm and abrasive, stealing the moment, taking. “I’m taking what is mine. I’ve come for love! I’m not leaving this stupid planet empty handed. You think I’ve gone crazy? You think I need subduing? You think that I don’t know exactly what I am doing? My love, you lost your fucking mind. Think again. I know everything. I refuse to participate in the understanding of things to be known. I don’t know what you’re thinking. But I know you have come to this party in hopes of my head landing in your lap by accident. Can you imagine? If I drank so much that I had to rely on your body to guide my skin home?” She stands. It’s getting unbearably hot in this spot that we’ve chosen to pronounce our love. “First of all, you’re a drama queen. Secondly, I am in love with you. And last of all, you are coming home with me tonight. If you think that I rely on accidents to manifest the love I am deserving of into my life, than you are sorely mistaken. I know what you are! And I intend on protecting you. Are you jealous? Have you finally seen the fear? When you walked away without a second thought, were you thinking with your own heart? Am I confusing lovers? Am I drunk? Would you stand by me if I forgot how much I adored you? Would you raise a child that wasn’t conceived by my love for you? Would you let me drag you along for a lifetime? If I forgot everything, would I still remember you? Sage! Please listen! Am I brave or scared shitless?” I take a step toward her and wrap my hands around her waist. “Turn around.” She doesn’t obey. “Trust me. You don’t have to see my embrace to know. I am always willing. This is my gift. Yours is sincerity. Mine is presence. Wouldn’t we make one hell of a team?” She turns towards the flame. “You aren’t confused. My love, what you are feeling, I am for you. Take me! I’m waiting. I am brave, like you. But I am not chasing. I am craving your certainty. When you are certain, let me know.” She feels my fingers locking around her ribcage. “I want you to fuck me. More specifically, I want you and it’s unexplainable. I cannot wrap my words around your skin. Do you see? This is the troubling part. I cannot describe it. I want you alone. I want you in my room. I want you in my bed. If you stain my sheets, I will understand. But until then I only have words. And no matter how many hours I let them run around my brain, I cannot make sense of you. Who are you to me? If I tell you that I want to fuck you, will you take me for a fool for not understanding? I don’t know how you taste until my tongue is running down your leg. How the fuck could you possibly expect me to understand!” I let my hands search. After much observation, I reach her neck. “Don’t be silly, stranger. You’ve known me for eternities. Regain certainty in your universal authority. I belong to you. There is nothing for either of us to understand. When you reach, I will lean. When I let my neck fall back completely because I am drunk out of my mind in trying to understand my love for you, your warm thighs will be expecting. Your eyes will roll back. And certainty will never be sought after again.” 

There’s a little boy on the trolley. He has a yellow cassette player clipped to his hip. He grabs the bar above his head with both hands. His fingers are peaking out of leather gloves with the fingers cut off. He’s very strong. I can’t take my eyes off of his chin bobbing. I imagine what he’s listening to. I think of Michael Jackson. I start singing Tina Turner. He turns toward me. He doesn’t stop dancing. He changes his rhythm to match my melody. “Its like we were destined to move toward each other.” I’m whispering. He pushes a plastic button and the tapes stops spinning. “What did you say?” I stand up and put my hands on his cheeks. “I said, don’t stop dancing. When you leave this train, you’ll step into a City of perpetual sunlight who’s never seen the light of day. As soon as they lay their filthy eyes on you, they’ll know, you and you alone remember the light. They will try to take everything. Your physical body will be of no concern to them. They wont feed you. They wont let you drink the water running from their facet. They wont clean your skin or mend your wounds. When your spine breaks from constant presentation and pure devotion, they will walk away and forget everything. Baby, look me deep in the eyes; this is a warning. I need you to know that you are never alone. No matter what you find convincing. No matter his strength over your baby bones. No matter how tender her touch: how you ache when she walks away. You mustn’t chase her, sweet boy. She won’t be thinking of you crawling to the shower on all fours. No matter what they say, if they are not speaking in favor of the convictions of your childish nature, they are not meant to guide you. Run away! You mustn’t stay in this godforsaken place any longer than you have to. Find what you are searching for, come and go quickly, you are made to pass through, always. Don’t think too much when you look behind. Cry whenever you like. But don’t resent the pain. Feel it completely and love every moment. You are consumed. Let it be. Feel it. Feel consumed by the only body you were given to. You will be frightened. Their ways of defining love will scare you to death. Fuck their fear! Fuck their shame! And fuck their tendency to reflect it through your porcelain skin. You are perfect in your shameless movements. You are so fucking beautiful. Have you ever danced in the mirror? Just for you. I’ll explain. You are the Devine Masculine. You live in the body of a woman. This woman is beating in my chest. Her flame is dancing; it’s identical to mine. I want to cry every time that I remember. Every time it is a different picture, because that is simply the repercussions of remembering too much. I try not to think, but I’d rather be still. I don’t want to entertain myself. I don’t want distractions. I am in love with nothingness. I find the most joy in empty space, a blank canvass for thoughts to run wild over memories long trodden into imaginary dust: remnants of reality. Mostly, it’s just us on a train. We’ve never even been on a train.” The boy giggles. “No, goofball. This is a trolley. And your memory is failing. You’ve never met me. You must be brave babygirl. You must come get me. Its Christmas, and you‘ve been watching for far too long. The mirror won’t manifest my love. You cannot be reflected without me and it’s eating you alive to be blind. Be gentle, child; I’ll remind you what it looks like. The river is steel blue. When the sunsets over the tree line, it bleeds behind the forest floor, as if it were a canvas, and all you had to do was lean back. The colors bleed. My body begs you from the back porch. A black dog is licking your face. You lift your head from the dirt and scream; you’ll be home when you can. You cannot rush the perfect picture. You want the perfect scene. It must be captured in the beauty of imagination. It must go as planned.” I slap him. “You know nothing, babyboy. I am not after perfection. The plan was written at the river by my very own hands. There is no need to remember. There is nothing to be known. When I create the forest floor, it will be the first time it has ever existed. When you cry for me to return home, I will not pursue my imagination. I will move my body. I will jump up and run as fast as I can. When I reach your warm skin, I will be shaking furiously and weeping uncontrollably. I won’t want to be controlled! I will only want memory. When you take your coat off and wrap it over my shoulders, I will scream, where have you been! I’ve been so cold! You wont play along. You will be balance and grace. You will lift my body and open the screen door with your feet. The dog will run in first. I will be the last to remember, my love. But when I do,  There will be nothing left to the imagination.