I’m dancing on spider’s wings. My phone’s died, leaving me without voice to the outside world. Shameful, really, that I allow it to get into such a state, but oh! To send my glittering nets out skimming facetime. See who appears at my door. Being both needle and thread, tatting an evening out of a peculiar miracle. Chaos controlling, my favourite. Under the skin conditioning, supple and smooth. I assure you that your name is important to me, you sweet wordsmith beauty queen. The broken smile’s fixed, replaced by a mild “you make me feel rainbows”.
Call any time you want.
Outside my window the world’s been cunningly replaced with christmas card cut-out of trees.
I don’t know if it will ever be okay again. I shudder inside when I hear your name. With permission, I’d like to slip sex into your morning coffee. Quiver and gasp, silent in my eyes. Clever compromise, I never had any choice in the matter. Come to my window, I will pull you in. Conduit heat and passion. I’ll learn for you. Brief chances at happiness, I know. Forgive me in my youth. Allow me this, I have a habit of bringing back immortality. Impure dream with me, trace the curve of my hip with your fingerful gaze. Done right, there’s nothing to corrupt. This is pristine, made of whispers in darkness and an ocean between.
Hair-dye hum, all of it’s plum purple yours to curl fingers into. A shipment of my things arrives today, every packed box a mystery of it’s own making. People to help me haul know less maybe then I do. Words never said, dresser drawers emptied into cardboard surprises. Later I finally record my voice. Jagged notes maybe, burrs to catch in clothing and stumble over. Clearly, enough to bind me by.