5:54
birds: singing
me: like a drug addict I return and return to that place where we met. I know we won't meet there again. I tell myself constantly that I do not expect or hope for anything anyways. and return. maybe, well, maybe there is just another magic moment around the corner???
matter of fact: there were magic moments. well, rather, potentially magic moments. several men fell in love with me tonight. or better -
men: wanted to fuck me/make love to me.
me: like a drug addict I could not stop thinking of you. francis is also from afrodescendance. but he is not you.
love: wants to be lived. immediately, always, urgently, necessarily.
me: not with me love not with me tonight. let me play, let me feel energy but don't expect any major channeling of love. no penetration of any kind tonight love, not tonight
matter of fact: three different guys want to cook with/for me this weekend
me: like a drug addict I returned to the place where we met. the weather was sad, grey and it was soon going to rain. the door was closed and I read the poster with the rules they put up recently. I heard the birds singing in there and I imagined the silhouette of the houses we stared at that night, as day slowly crept along the riverside and bathed the silhouettes in silky light to reveal their beauty, their stunning beauty in destruction. you smoked and your laughter was like a stab in my heart because it reminded me of the future. of a future that I am desperately longing for and that I trust will come true. I know, I know, in order to let the future land safely in my harbour I need to give time to it, allow a generous schedule, be patient and thats why it hurt. I looked down, looked down the street we went along that morning, the spot where you gave me this look and I knew nothing was going to happen but so much already had happened. where you laughed silently about our walking so slowly. the bank where you encouraged me to continue talking while you were opening the door. your cold and uncomfortable hand when you said good bye. the poem I slipped into your jacket. the singing in my heart when I walked down the street and like a drug addict I stare at the closed door and feel a heavy heavy tiredness emerge from deep inside. I want to sit down and lay my head on my knees and sleep in a fetal position. I want to crawl onto that couch we sat on and sleep until the sun wakes me up to a new day a new day another day without you.
6:06
tim love lee (never heard of him before) play: sombre hombre.
I am sober(although this was a prototype night for getting drunk actually) and need to sleep now. I miss you so terribly I miss you. the birds are singing and human beings are so crazy. we are all lunatics. we go to sleep when the birds wake up. the walls of the backyard houses are yellow and beige. I feel inspired by their simple boring form. I see a lot of sky. but there is no heaven
No comments:
Post a Comment