Thursday, November 20, 2008

If. I could. Sit. Still. Stay. Still. Gather my thoughts together. Keep myself intact. For just a second. If I could hold my head in my hands. And not have it explode. If I had firm and strong hands. The potter’s skilled hands. And not let the voices drip out and slide down my temples by accident. If the crickets and the cicadas could just keep a little more quiet. Just a little. I don’t ask for much. If I could stop myself from wanting to tear my hair out. If you could hold me. If you could keep me in one piece. For just a second. I don’t ask for much you see. If you could. I think. The tears. The burning, the aching, the yearning. Would stop. My heart would shut up about being pricked by some sharp icy icicle, like a lollipop stick, so tiny holes appear and ooze blood the colour of a ripe poison apple, and ants crawl about and drown and die, tiny marching feet in the pool of water vapour next to my can of cold Pepsi or something, would just stop banging about and blabbering complete nonsense yada yada. If you could help me. Please. I wouldn’t. Feel. So much. I could. Fall in love. I could. I could. Believe. Dare. To reach out. And touch the silvery blue moon. In the palm of my hand. Feel it kiss my skin softly and tenderly and carefully (because I could break again) and slide off my fingertip and dance with the stars all night long. I wouldn’t be afraid. Of going stark raving mad. I wouldn't have to keep running, running, running, gasping and then fuck it all and scream into my pillow until all I am, is just a sound, a single loud sound that starts off with a bad bang and then trails off and vanishes into the thin air and becomes nothing, absolutely nothing, nothing at all.

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