I could wrap myself up in acetate, preserve this like money under a mattress in an old folks home in brilliant cloth of jungle flower passion colours. I could keep on trying to run after the butterflies that chase through my stomach on my way to meet you, capture them in a net made from the hair on your head which has slipped away in my hands. I could dance in the rain on a sea-side promenade and laugh while I reach my hands to you under a dark awning lit by lightning under a fox marriage sky. There are many possibilities and they keep looking back to you and the pattern on the blankets of a bed that was bigger than where we lived once.
The internet never ceases to amaze, as proved well with this gem that Dominique sent me, Lion Mutilates 42 Midgets in Cambodian Ring-Fight.
It’s funny, people have come between Bill and I yet he remains My Ex. Like how the in between relationships haven’t impacted, never existed. He’s sound for The Center now, the largest theatre we have in town. I’m wary of spending time so soon into being single again, yet if we were even slightly more in touch, I would ask him to the fetish Masquerade tonight, Matthew having stood me up. It’s only a few blocks from my home, but I’m still feeling a little uncertain about going alone, more so because I was expecting company than for any more expected social fears.
As if to beat… nevermind. Nicholas found a marvelous, video on horse castration with black and decker drills, “Henderson Equine Castrating Instrument.”
Something is slipping away, it might be my smile, it might be feeling like I need to look after people who aren’t my family. I want to be able to talk to people, but their feelings have been getting in the way. It’s the season for splitting off alone again. Spring comes and everyone starts lying, pollen fills the air thick as wanting to get laid. My body’s remembered what it’s like to have a lover, but I don’t feel like giving it one. I’m sleeping alone, insisting on it, turning down offer after offer and making people sleep on the couch, which is weird for me. I feel sharp somehow, like I’m going to drop the mask at midnight and slice everyone to ribbons with the little knives that live on the tips of my fingers.