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.