Wednesday, August 30, 2006

I kissed your mouth and back.

we might kiss
when we are alone
when nobody’s watchin’
we might take it home

I bit into my apple and the pink flesh that hides behind the rosy red skin takes me by surprise. Damien soars in my earbuds, the equaliser rising and falling in time with my irregular heart beat.

we might make out
when nobody's there
it's not that we're scared
it's just that it's delicate

Sometimes this job is the best. I have my work, the work I think might be my life's work, in front of me, taking notes from dusty books. The real work has dried up and rathe than sat here bored on the internet I thought I'd read and nibble apples.

so why d’ya fill my sorrow
with the words you've borrowed
from the only place you've known
why d’ya sing hallelujah
if it means nothin’ to ya
why d’ya sing with me at all?
But the apple took me by surprise. A moment of sublime in world of grey. The red of the skin seeps through the flesh to a snow white core. It could be blood on winter snow or strawberry juice staining baby cheeks or cold bitten lips.
we might live
like never before
when there's nothin’ to give
how can we ask for more?

Things are going to be ok. I might be trapped in this office, but I'm soaring through pages and pages of books. I have nothing to give to quote Damien, and nothing more to ask for. It's a nice place to be. This study excites me. It answers questions no one could before.

we might make love
in some sacred place
that look on your face
is delicate

In Soton over the bank holiday weekend, I am ashamed and proud to admit that I went to the library and stood in the oldest reading room and smelt the air like a drug addict. Leather topped desks, and mirrors, and shelves of crumbling books interwoven with modern plastic coated ones, and flickering lights. It's a drug this learning. I want to know. I want to know. Not just my history, but other things. Why do hands have such a range of movement? Which bones and tendons allow me to type? What are the Noachime laws? How do numbers in a computer programme become letters and shapes on my monitor? How will Farraday Cages stop wireless network connections from leaking out of buildings?

so why d’ya fill my sorrow
with the words you've borrowed
from the only place you've known
why d’ya sing hallelujah
if it means nothin’ to ya
why d’ya sing with me at all?

I can't take my eyes off of you. Hundreds of thoughts are tumbling through my brain, matching to curls around my shoulders. It's great to be happy again. It's great to know people can feel again. I can't take my eyes off you. That I can be alone again without feeling desperately painful. Did I say that I want to?

The memories of last night fill my daydreams. The crochet slips between my fingers. The words slip beneath my eyes into my head. My mind.

Oh! :-)

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