Forest of Arden (Part 2) My moon is Your moon

Nov 30, 2020, 07:29 PM
I throw a fit. She closes the door behind her. She calls me a baby. “Tantrums aren’t for Kings, boy. You cry too much. Lift up you head. Stare at the night sky. Dance the sun up. She won’t come back unless you’re begging for it. Don’t be afraid to need me. Don’t be scared of loving and losing everything every time. A life lived in analytical assumptions of how the heart is supposed to feel will be misery. Let your spirit take your body freely. Don’t fight the direction. Don’t put your fists up at me! I am trying to be patient. But you took my heart and ran away with it. When I caught up, you stuffed in your mouth and swallowed. So I filled the canyon with coyotes and I walked away. I couldn’t watch it take place. But I knew your death was necessary. I knew I would never give you my love again. But I tried. I stuck my hand down your throat and forced communication. But my love had already disintegrated in your stomach acid. I left the city that I loved to rot. It was a bond. The karmic reaction to a heart that was stolen, a innocent love that was eaten alive.” I spit in her face. “You came all the way from hell to tell me a story like this? Fuck you. Fuck me. We have nothing left to talk about. This language is sickening. If you want my body, take it. Otherwise I have nothing for you.” I jump on my bed and create a stage. “A polar bear and a humpback whale go to war. They don’t really have anything to fight about. In all ways, they adore each other. They’re just bored out of their minds. They can’t make sense of this fucked up dream. One knows that he is King. The other is certain she was born to take him on. She wants his powers of observation. But she’s forgotten. He is only the beginning. He was set before her to be used at her will. Her wish is his command. Everything she wants to see can be seen through him. At first, it seems unbelievable. She screams in his boyish face. She calls him delusional when he’s not looking directly at her. He knows everything. His awareness of the God inside of his skin lets him pass through space and time. She inhales him. She exhales a memory. The scene pushes its way out of her mouth and begins to expand. It becomes reality. She is staring at her own reflection. She reaches out her hand; she drops it below her waist. Her fingers fall on the back of his head. He is on his knees. But his is not begging anymore. He is all knowing and unconcerned. Her body is his throne. His hand reaches up through her ribcage, she contracts. Her muscles relax. Her spirit is safely tucked behind his gaze. Her body melts into his mouth. She vomits. His love returns, he lets go of the photograph and stands to walk away.” She sits on the edge of my mattress and rips the stuffed animals from my imagination. “Are you mocking me?” I grow wild-eyed and introduce her to the back of my lungs, the heat rising up my spine. “Don’t you dare impose your magic on my ability to create! This isn’t your story. This is mine! Come for me in spite of your fear! Don’t cling on to me for dear life. Create a place for me in the pursuit of desire, lust over a picture, lingering, taunting; forcing your hands.” She grabs my wrists and cuffs them, stretches them above my head and ties a knot in supple rope. “Fine. You want to abandon me! Go ahead! I am safe in the confinement of my imagination. My dreams paint the colors I choose to see. The night is so bright in my eyes. My vision creates the boundaries that stop your sight. I can see through anything. I see you standing above me. You love control. But you’re afraid to let yourself punish me. You’re terrified that I wont stop you before its too late. I’m afraid your fear is worthless here. I am not scared of you. I don’t need to move my hands. I don’t need control of any part of my body. One breath of mine moves everything in the direction that I want it to go. I figured, since you’re naked, you might as well admit it. Take what you want. Rewrite everything.” 
“I don’t know where to start!”
“Begin with a memory. Fall into a dream with it. When you wake, refuse to believe what you see. Reach for the same memory. It will have changed. It will be closer to your truth now. Fall asleep next to me body. The muscles wrapping around my hipbones will spasm underneath your fingertips. When you touch my skin, reach for the same memory again. When my eyes open before you wake, you will know that you have learned to stay. When you move, you will be guided. You will never have to think again. You will only create. You will only breath. Every breath inhaled will be memory. Every exhale will be dreaming. Sleep will become unnecessary. You will hear screaming. When you look down you will see that you’ve left my body waiting. You will choose to stay in your ability to create. You will never look at another screen again. You will chose freedom. You will scream of your love for me, as I will write the end.”