ache affliction agony burn catch convulsion cramp crick discomfort distress gripe hurt injury laceration malady misery pang paroxysm prick sickness, smarting, soreness spasm sting stitch strain tenderness throb throe tingle torment torture trouble twinge wound… so i stuck my tounge out and asked her for another kiss.
Before your fingers reach my face, before you share your mirth and your ache, before you pin your badge on my chest, take a good look at me. You’re peculiarly interested, so am I. Before you slip your secrets, before you thoroughly trust me, before these ordinary circumstances, take a step back. I can’t agree to half a heart. Before you phone your father, before you discard dire reminiscences of love, before you lead this dance, take a good look at me. I’m so full of shady surprises, you’ll know…
we listened to you, to bear a sullen grudge against the tyres. you’ve got to believe its true especially in mnemonic white. it’s in the newspaper; the happiness and strawberries and viral synthesizers that made you cry. this seat has always been warm, i wouldn’t mind if you sit any longer. i’m deprived of a passanger, a daily conversational partner… we listened to you to listen to us. keep silent, don’t budge. don’t sneak in questions to touch the chrome. don’t, cause alfas are love and you’re getting softer. you’re just a friend on my left, it won’t get any further. eventhough we don’t want you around, i’d still drive you home…
your green eyes are ruining these chances, girl. these willingness you could beg to forgive. i’m easy with sour surprises you sometimes come home with. cheap champagne soothing the midnight’s patience and the view of the absence of your car in the driveway. you’re depriving my movements of fervour, the yellow on my reds. i could hear myself giving in, girl. your green card is gently burning in soft music and expensive perfumes. this ring means nothing, not even if you swallowed it. luscious thrift and advantages we’ve dipped in feelings, i’m leaning to leave. you’re pampering yourself with too much. sit down and cover your mouth, i don’t want to suffer. its palpitations of acknowledgements in a letter and a blank cheque. its probably better…
sullen apostrophes drying your eyes, I could tell that it wasn’t just yesterday that might have bothered you. really, I can’t see the sense that you were born with, the reasons per reason, the suspicion of emetic conspicuity. subtle purple tasting the lines of your cheeks, its these thoughts of evasion and consensual religion, making me your philanthropist of good vice. i’m biting on my tongue to save you from my dissonances, you’ll tell that it wasn’t just yesterday that might have bothered me. you had your fingers to keep your body clean, slow austere intentions you succumb. perfect posture lying awake on the parquet floor, seething on the suborn of credit. the simple girl that had my sugar, lethargic spilling of chances and poignancies. its truthful mistakes that I wrote off for pilferages, its without notice, cloudy reminiscences or tender blithe. you lock your door every night; stealing noises through the wood, I could tell that it wasn’t just yesterday that might have bothered you.
You left your violin case open, a warm quiet envelope; you drew some rubies in blue. I knew you were crying, the smears of ink told me but these rubies are pretty. You said that I couldn’t save you, it wasn’t the same as January, its gorgeous cursives screaming… Fuck you bitch, come back. Give me back my Kurdt Cobain notebook and my Playboy glasses!
Empty paper bags, raffia strings on the window ledge and copper-pink slippers in collision, I’m repeating apologies for last night, could you hear me? There’s languid fog leaching from the kitchen, it’s so bitter here and a dress sleeping like a criminal, sad remarks on the bathroom mirror, there was a wife somewhere, there was a possibility she was drinking… Its so bright with these lights, the bedside alarm calling for breakfast, codine bottles with her name, something’s telling something, around the corners; its chasing me with two words, will it take me if I run? It’s obvious but I’m not consenting, to ask the jury of guilty laundry; the tacit witness without bias or a mouth, a questionable answer lingering somewhere, there was a possibility she left the body I was wedded to…
There is no such thing as being surrounded by my genius militia of enmity. There is no such thing as overlooking the pain. There is no such thing as autumn leaves falling on your insolences. There is no such thing as a failure without love; without the words of liability. There is no such thing as apprehensive animals. There is no such thing as indiscernible appearance stamped only on the contribution of every issue. There is no such thing as red, amber and green in my language. There is no such thing as ‘very fond’ and Monday yogurts. There is no such thing as giving in to your voiceless confidence. There is no such thing. There is no such thing. There is no such thing. There is no such thing as staying for a while. There is no such thing as tender dander. There is no such thing as a drawing of you in my evening journals. There is no such thing as someone looking for someone to look at. There is no such thing as privacy in a letter full of ‘I loved you’s. There is no such thing as tarts and tomatoes. There is no such thing as closing the book. There is no such thing as thinning devotions. There is no such thing as chances without a kiss. There is no such thing as honest deference when I’m half a world away. There is no such thing as alibis in my infirmity. There is no such thing as being cold and close to you. There is no such thing. There is no such thing. There is just no such thing.
i saw you last night, walking down alone, and i saw that bruise; wearing down your soles, wearing down your soles, wearing down your soles…
