Monday, 26 May 2014

Late Night Tales

A confusion. But a word of advice;

It is often best to question the way a question is asking itself to be revealed, against fears of misinterpreting its meaning, especially without intonation for clarity.

Shall we begin?

"I guess it's not like they'd come up in everyday conversation/are known about. For that I am glad."

It's that music, 3:03 minutes of heaven and hell all mixed into one. Instantly buzzed, this synesthesia both seductress and enemy. I am addicted to that feeling. To the tequila nights. To the ones no one really understands but me. Give me your spectrum, colouring it right. Wearing our warpaint, smeared cheeks rouge.

"I guess it's very twisted. There are certainly blocks in my mind. They are so strong I can't sometimes believe that what I know is real."

That strange girl who is quiet in the day and louder in the night. Kissing girls on balconies, as she kisses my neck I see the stars floating down in the gutter. Every building clad in silks of all colours, even the ones that you don't know exist - quintalca my favourite. Screwing up her life as she pulls the gruff and scratchy face of her superior closer to look him in the eyes. Returning the kiss that tasted as foul as its morality, and as bad as if he'd never done it before.  

"I'm scared in some respects that it isn't, because what kind of person would make up shit like that/this? And if that was me, then who the hell am I/what am I?"

My body becomes not my own. I am finally in rhythm. I am so in sync. I am that extra one (five) shot. Make it good, make it count. I am your godly queen, terrifying and amazing for those felt hours. Under or between the sheets? Deciding positionality is always part of a much deeper game. We sleep in hiding and comfort, a rest bite for the hours that will shortly present themselves. Unwelcome gifts, but you are amongst the land of the living. 3:34 minutes for the mission to last another night.

Where sleep should find you the rebound of sound does. An internal scream that lasts and lasts. Ear to ear. Back and forth. And so they can't possibly. I am in the corner, mine sweeping and blinded by the strobes. Pushed against the wall and ferocious. The name of the last drink forgotten. Last guy that grabbed me, blood on hand, must've not agreed with the advance of that walk of life. Words in ear. The slow motion of the friend that uses her fists where statements can't be heard over the deafening vacuum around us. Grabbed hands and dancing in hell's heels.

There's so much new stuff to do. So much crazy shit. I can't wait. And so sometimes I need this back in my life so desperately.

"That alone makes me not think about this much at all. Not fear that it would happen again."

Months on.

"Things are no good still, I am no good of late. In spite of this I have not felt like writing here - somewhat deliberately.
However, what inspired me to write today was a chance peace in my view of the full moon over a rooftop - cloudy sky, except for that one path of my vision to its light. How magnificent it looked. How deep its shadowed surface. How radiant it stands amidst a blackened sky. Swallowed whole and refusing to move all at once.
It gave me briefly, but whole minutes (of two), to just be in awe of its beauty and there was nothing else.
To think that it is a rock, in space, so far away. That has been travelled to and marvelled at by millions and millions at some point or any other. I share that sky with him. How lucky am I?"