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.