chapter_8

The couch melts away in exotic oranges and blues. Every breath he takes seems to sometimes make me think of you. The mornings spent sleeping late and getting high faded deeply into my memories as I long for the familiar. The water is closing in on me, the land has completely disappeared. I have no idea who I am. I have no idea why I can't just be okay with that.

I have that sinking feeling, the kind you get when you keep swimming further and further out only to realize nothing around you is familiar anymore. In the middle of the ocean all one can see is water, land ceases to exist in this skewed perception of reality. I can only hold my breath so long before the panic sets in.

It’s because his eyes swirled in this magnificent way as if someone were to slice the earth open, showing layers of blue and gold. And when he spoke, when he spoke it sounded like Beethoven, the deaf stumbling across beautiful notes all accidentally. This instance, this feeling that engulfed me allowed me to walk away from the details I was so consumed with. They were glorious and bits and pieces of the surreal. However, the further back I stepped, the more I noticed that the gold was the spray on type paint that was chipping at the corners. Nothing is as it seems I suppose. I started backing away faster to realize all of that glory I basked in when the this idol shined, was just cheap light someone reflected from the dull surface using a two dollar sunset. That’s why I ran faster. I was either heartless or enlightened, depending on who is telling the story.

A sinking feeling dwells in the bottom of my drink as I look out the dark window into the woods. I know back in the city I won’t smell the earthy smell that seeps in again, it will be replaced with something new that I could possibly fall back in love with. Tonight, as the moon casts down on lower class homes and twisted tree branches, I sleep alone, again. This time, I think, it will feel more like sleeping alone though. This is the prelude to tomorrow. I’m not sure how I feel about it.

I can see the city from where I stand, and can’t help but wonder if it could see me. The sky is a brilliant shade of pink as I go eighty down curving roads with guitars screaming into the wind. A sense of oneness is invoked with each mile under the blistering sunset. I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing you, but I also don’t dream about the city anymore.

Ants crawl across the long strands of grass as I inhale. Each strand bends in a different direction with my weight, and the grass stands much taller than my small frame. There are bugs here, they run across our jeans when we sit lotus position in the woods. I just needed to get in touch with myself again, that’s all.

I sit in the field, lotus position, seeking out self discovery. Here, the grass is taller than I am, it is bent downwards in all directions where I sit. The city doesn’t have unruly grass like this. It is all predetermined, everything is calculated and exact to appear this way when I am there. Ants crawl across the dewy, green strands and spiders weave in and out. Here there are bugs, the sing loudly in the distance as birds chirp. I breath in, then out. I feel safe here. The woods are just ahead and civilization is just behind me. I can be at one. I can be home.

Nothing we are saying makes any sense. We are interconnected through the deepest forces, I don’t know where one altered mind ends and one begins or even the origins for that matter. Smoke rolls around your eyes as you look at me, you are the organic embodiment of myself. Though, I am not even quite certain who that is. I try to envision the night sky as the car speeds by playing old, soft music in the background. I cannot imagine what it looked like without stars, but in a few weeks I’ll forget all about the stars. Ill forget all about you, sooner or later, too. Maybe you will forget about me, probably. I wouldn’t be mad. I wouldn’t keep my memory around either if I were you. Id toss it away with old butane lighters, stems, and seeds. Maybe ill grow old and be beautiful somewhere else. I hope you do the same. But we probably won't.

I like to think all of our action is driven by the divine and intense force of karma. Every person we meet is due to what we have to make up for them. Each time you slip out of my life and enter is due to what we may have done lifetimes ago. Each tear and each mistake is justified under this philosophy. We come together to fix each other. We come together to learn. Isn’t that our meaning as humans? Isn’t that all we could ask for? To learn and teach? I’m an atheist though, so maybe this doesn’t appply to me. I just think it is beautiful.

If I take this wall going eighty it probably wouldn’t matter. The metal would spark and tear across the cement as I watch it from the driver’s seat. I never did anything but show people that even those that love you will betray you. I suppose that’s all anyone has ever done though. I suppose that is what we are best at.

The room was scented with whiskey in that lonely manner dust covered dreams usually are. The blankets were crumbled under our bodies, but I felt safe holding a stranger in my arms. It’s not a fair title, but your lips moved across my body, drunk off of lust. We fell deep into our sorrow, listening to the acoustics in the background, skipping out on life. Slowly we submerged ourselves within each other. The hollowness in the room cast a shadow across our faces. Barely speaking words, we knew the dialog well. In that clumsy manner we go about breaking hearts and forgetting to call. Ignoring the loving, and loving the lonely. My mouth tastes of chloroform and cyanide. This is the only end we ever had, hold me with your empty eyes. Pretend we are free, just this once.

Laissez faire? Carpeim diem? You said the sadness would last forever as you grasped for your last words. You were right, I assume. The sky turns October shades, the way they look in RPG games with people that see sound. The hollowness of the hill against the moon brings one back to Halloween 1994. I sat in the bed of a truck pondering how legal it was. Actually, I was too young for such ponders as the fabric of my cheap, discount store custom stuck tightly to my skin while I searched determinedly for a porch light to shine through the growingly dark sky. The excitement of turning into a complete stranger’s driveway become thrilling in that embarrassing mask of ignorance.