smokingboot (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
smokingboot) wrote2004-06-04 08:23 pm
smokingboot) wrote2004-06-04 08:23 pm
And...
And I have this stupid inflammation in my back and neck and shoulder, so I can't bloody move, and my night of rock and roll is over. Tomorrow there will be fun and friends, picnics and pleasure. But for now?
I will write some little thing.*
I am remembering her, her great round eyes and honey brown limbs, I am remembering her as she ran past the car, nightdress flapping in the wind, down the highway like a demented little dog or a bird. I am remembering her in the police station, when I reached out my hand and she smiled and bit me.
To make sure. Pulling back, bleeding, I was sure. She looked at me and nodded. We had language once between us, she and I. Now she ran her tongue around her lips and a new question was there. I thought I had changed and left you behind me, but in fact, you are the one, you are the one changing and I am the one gripping what I understand, trying to hold on.
Her hair so thick and soft. I barely know her, but I know she will die if she stays here, and maybe I should let that happen, but we are not good citizens, you and I. I imagine her speaking to me about the deserts and the sea, and I correct myself straight away. No. She wants the mountains, the high places where the soil will give you anything if you feed it. Magical. I am the one looking for the sea. It means nothing to her. But I can't get away from it. How can it be that I barely know what matters? I barely know you. Do you matter?
A jaunty bark, a tilt of her head, she seems happy. I don't know her and yet I can't leave because she matters and the police would like some sense out of me. My mother, you see, in that satin dressing gown. Underneath it is a floral print nightdress. Am I the only one who sees how her teeth have grown long, how they cram her jaw and spill outwards, filling her mouth? Am I the only one who sees how luminous her eyes are, how they follow the constable to the door, how she snaps into life and relaxes at the same time - the moment they leave us?
When I shut my eyes I know the place of rest. Jesus Christ, let me rest with you. I won't hurt you, two hours and I'll be gone, and no-one will ever know. I sleep better alone. But if you were there, I might be at peace, if you were there...I lie to myself. If you were there, you would be like any other pair of arms, any other monkey, I realise as I look at the spit on my wrist.
I look at her and she grins. Yes, you are happy now you horror, I think, and I wonder where my pity disapeared. She means me harm. Oh yes. She means it. See what is there to be seen, she hates and loves and that is why she bit so deep with those pretty little teeth (why don't they look at her teeth?)fastened for a moment onto my wrist. So you are to die and I am to die too. I don't agree. No, I don't agree. Bitch.
Any disease can be fought. She didn't, more fool her, and here she is in a police station while I work out some clever story to get her out. Hair on her hands? Claws and teeth? Preposterous. I tell good lies. She will leave here with her handbag tucked under her arm. I will be the one who sweats and burns cold at the full moon, I will be the one who sleeps with leaves in my bed and she, she'll be roadkill on a turnoff before she worries about it.
I turn my head and think of you. Is there rest where you are? Don't pity me. There is a mark on me, a bite which tells the story, I might kill you right now if I woke next to you. I know, I knew it was always likely, what's bred in the blood will come out in the bone...
And I realise in the fading light, how ardently, how totally I loved you.
*copyright debbie gallagher, yes I know nicking stuff's not your style, I'm embarrassed too, has to be done, etc, etc...
I will write some little thing.*
I am remembering her, her great round eyes and honey brown limbs, I am remembering her as she ran past the car, nightdress flapping in the wind, down the highway like a demented little dog or a bird. I am remembering her in the police station, when I reached out my hand and she smiled and bit me.
To make sure. Pulling back, bleeding, I was sure. She looked at me and nodded. We had language once between us, she and I. Now she ran her tongue around her lips and a new question was there. I thought I had changed and left you behind me, but in fact, you are the one, you are the one changing and I am the one gripping what I understand, trying to hold on.
Her hair so thick and soft. I barely know her, but I know she will die if she stays here, and maybe I should let that happen, but we are not good citizens, you and I. I imagine her speaking to me about the deserts and the sea, and I correct myself straight away. No. She wants the mountains, the high places where the soil will give you anything if you feed it. Magical. I am the one looking for the sea. It means nothing to her. But I can't get away from it. How can it be that I barely know what matters? I barely know you. Do you matter?
A jaunty bark, a tilt of her head, she seems happy. I don't know her and yet I can't leave because she matters and the police would like some sense out of me. My mother, you see, in that satin dressing gown. Underneath it is a floral print nightdress. Am I the only one who sees how her teeth have grown long, how they cram her jaw and spill outwards, filling her mouth? Am I the only one who sees how luminous her eyes are, how they follow the constable to the door, how she snaps into life and relaxes at the same time - the moment they leave us?
When I shut my eyes I know the place of rest. Jesus Christ, let me rest with you. I won't hurt you, two hours and I'll be gone, and no-one will ever know. I sleep better alone. But if you were there, I might be at peace, if you were there...I lie to myself. If you were there, you would be like any other pair of arms, any other monkey, I realise as I look at the spit on my wrist.
I look at her and she grins. Yes, you are happy now you horror, I think, and I wonder where my pity disapeared. She means me harm. Oh yes. She means it. See what is there to be seen, she hates and loves and that is why she bit so deep with those pretty little teeth (why don't they look at her teeth?)fastened for a moment onto my wrist. So you are to die and I am to die too. I don't agree. No, I don't agree. Bitch.
Any disease can be fought. She didn't, more fool her, and here she is in a police station while I work out some clever story to get her out. Hair on her hands? Claws and teeth? Preposterous. I tell good lies. She will leave here with her handbag tucked under her arm. I will be the one who sweats and burns cold at the full moon, I will be the one who sleeps with leaves in my bed and she, she'll be roadkill on a turnoff before she worries about it.
I turn my head and think of you. Is there rest where you are? Don't pity me. There is a mark on me, a bite which tells the story, I might kill you right now if I woke next to you. I know, I knew it was always likely, what's bred in the blood will come out in the bone...
And I realise in the fading light, how ardently, how totally I loved you.
*copyright debbie gallagher, yes I know nicking stuff's not your style, I'm embarrassed too, has to be done, etc, etc...
no subject
Anyway honey, it's been WAY, WAY too long. We going to catch up some time or what?
Don't like having lost you. :-(
no subject
It would be great to get together. Time's the problem, but there must be something we can do!