Svefn-g-englar

"Don't look at me that way. It was an honest mistake."

The sky is spectacular. Now. Like a well-dressed wraith sporting tinsel and tin foil. The moon is yellow fleshy-celestial; it reminds me of paint smears on masonite. I would stay outside all night, if I could. Find little froggies like last time and follow the skin-prickling paths of fireflies with eyes half-mast and dreaming. If I could. I'd like to breathe in the humidity and inhale through my skin a thousand different nocturnal sounds; I'd like to wrap myself in night and bind myself with music and throw away this current span of consciousness that I'm playing at. I adore music. I live because of random note arrangements and melodies and sounds and lyrics sung in interesting voices. Wait. Oh, wait. 'Ruby wounds ope hollow jaws.'

"You discover that the monster you were running from is the monster in you..."

Particularly lovely was last night. Particularly lovely was the company I kept, the activities I indulged in, the new experiences I partook of. Particularly, particularly lovely. It was heart-snapping. It was hot needle-y sensations like a sea worth sleeping in. I've never felt so...glass-limbed and perfect. When I was on the bridge and breathing into you...hmm. More than I've ever felt. Mad scientist. More than I've ever, ever felt. Breathing into you and falling back.

"Never want to come down."

Interesting is the way my mood flucuates. Violently, I should think. Seems a very, very good adjective. Dolly's asleep for the most part tonight. Her little fingers put me back into the orange bottle recommended for whole-ness. And no one knows what I mean, yet. I haven't told a soul, yet. I think it'll stay that way for a while. Or maybe I'll tell. Who knows?

I want to have discussions again. In the dark, feeling summer-sultry-open and talking about...everything that comes to mind. It's what astounds me, all those conversations with you.

"Jumped into the river and what did I see...?"

Time for Canon in D. Feeling supremely human and hurt-able and heavy. 'Can you talk to me? Just talk to me. Please?' I didn't mind being vulnerable then. Only time in my nineteen-rotten-toothy-years that I was vulnerable enough to admit that I needed something. Someone. To keep me in the frame and away from the image-edge. "In the blink of an eye there was no one attending." I got a hole in one during mini-golf, once. Put a hole-in-one-in-me soon. Now that's a little trite. A little devious and sad. "...boulevard of broken dreams to find the key to Gramercy Park." Huh. Now that it's not an option, I see how much it helped to talk instead of tear.

"Where did everybody go? I need them now to save me."

Need to go to that little castle off the coast of Italy and wander and wander and wander. Maybe? Go with me.