Hanging the laundry, cleaning out the lint trap. A piece of bastard literature.

You piss me off so much. Your sneery smile, your know-it-all-isms, your arrogance, your generally rude manner stinking of anal cavities, with a hint of the suburban banality lurking on the edges of your shell. How can someone so smart be so stupid? I used to ask this of you, but ask myself as much and don't like the reason behind my mean spirited irrational temper tantrums. I was in denial to the answers to any questions I had regarding you though.

I feel like running around my house stomping the crap out of the ancient red linoleum, rubbed smooth by angry lonely women before me, when I think about the latest frustrating moments we've shared together. At least, they seemed frustrating until I felt blessed by something so uncharged. Just like every happy couple, we talk about theology, comic books and movies to no end. We cuddle. We don't speak. We speak of nothing. This used to bother me until I realize we don't speak because we don't have to. Nothing is forced, nothing is intense, terrifying. What about love? What about skin touching skin? What about that profound connection that somehow seemed like a flash of brilliance that quickly dimmed? It didn't dim, it just glows unflickering. I don't know the answers to these questions though either, but I find myself more welcoming of what you will grow to offer hopefully. I realize now that we're both fated to just share sparing moments with each other for what seems to be a long time, but maybe eventually it will turn into one long moment together.

I was beating myself up about this constantly.I completely know that it is a total lost cause- you're completely gone, if you were ever there at that place, and not looking back. I was sitting here, holding the phone. Holding my breath for some incredible fucking deux ex machina to make it all work anyways. The more I moped about it, the further you got from me.

And the heat waves flicker
Between you and I
You so far up ahead
Curious as to why I haven't
Caught up yet
And me
Sitting on the side of the road
A skinned heart
Bits of gravel smarting
In my wound

You're so young, and inexperienced, and it makes me smile tenderly to think of it. But then my reflection in the mirror takes on this whole new image of a girl dressed to kill, in a leather boustierre, mini-skirt and fishnet stockings- a riding crop named "Bill" hanging out of her hand. I am a hot-blooded animal called "Corruption." You best start running now, I used to think, though I knew it was the last thing you'd do. I'd have to push you off me, and not call you back for more.

I am the purveyor of moral dilemma
You just haven't realized yet.
You're so innocent
It hurts my eyes to look at you.

Appropriately jaded, it's understandable, was understandable. Still is. You thought you were as equally able to play "tired out, loved out" as I. Maybe- but I'll never really question that, it's not my right. You do have to understand that I knew the two things you lacked though. And I stomped around my house, because I knew them- and you didn't. If you'd known them, perhaps you would have seen things my way- looked my way. Either I would be incredibly stupid and choose to wait for you to gain some crucial knowlege through life experience- creating more painstaking moments for me in the meantime- or I would just give up. And I did, because I could pat your hand like a kindly old friend for the rest of your life and still be happy.

All I really want of you is some sort of feeling that we're together because you want to be there for me. Not because I'm someone you bump into occassionally, who likes to be with you, brings you places, experiences, weird food, corruption, the Outside realm. Look at me in the eyes and tell me that you can't bear to be without me- I complete you- you want to romance me, and that you love me just as I am. That you care about what I have to say, what I have to write about, what I have to show you with my hands. That you want to learn about me, because I want to learn about you. Can you do this? Because I really need you to do this.

I realized that you wanted the same thing I do, and while this caused heartbreak, I finally figured out that this was the reason we were friends and would stay friends. You wanted the same thing I did, just with someone else. I was too thickheaded to see that you can meet people with the same ideals and not necessarily have to be with them. It was just a sign that there are more people like that out there, and that maybe I shouldn't give up- maybe I should give others more credit.

Not hold them next to each other and pick off the flaws with an air gun until one target was obliterated, and one was left standing- to claim a prize that I didn't deserve.


(So I'm still standing with the profound epiphany that struck me over the head yesterday. I do love him, and I've been a terrible person to him, about him, regarding him. Things won't change, because I have always been heartfelt with him over the phone, in person- but now I will be profoundly more grateful for that then I have been, and grateful for a long due awareness of all this.)

As for you: You are one of my greatest friends, and still will be. But I'm going to have to find a new muse. Yes, you were my muse. Maybe you will continue to be, but in a different light. I hope you don't mind me using the private volumes I have amassed (creepy, I know) in poetry to do something with. They will remain nameless, though really, there never were any names. Right? ; P)

  ¶ 11:53 PM