{"id":1503,"date":"2005-07-06T01:14:00","date_gmt":"2005-07-06T01:14:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/2005\/07\/06\/time-field-happen-on\/"},"modified":"2005-07-06T01:14:00","modified_gmt":"2005-07-06T01:14:00","slug":"time-field-happen-on","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/2005\/07\/06\/time-field-happen-on\/","title":{"rendered":"time field happen on"},"content":{"rendered":"
When I was a child:
\nRunning in the night,
\nAfraid of what might be <\/p>\n

Hiding in the dark,
\nHiding in the street,
\nAnd of what was following me…<\/p>\n

Now hounds of love are hunting.
\nI\u2019ve always been a coward,
\nAnd I don\u2019t know what\u2019s good for me.<\/p>\n

Here I go.
\nIt\u2019s coming for me through the trees.
\nHelp me, someone,
\nHelp me, please.<\/p>\n

Take my shoes off,
\nAnd throw them in the lake,
\nAnd I\u2019ll be
\nTwo steps on the water.<\/p>\n

I found a fox
\nCaught by dogs.
\nHe let me take him in my hands.<\/p>\n

His little heart,
\nIt beats so fast,
\nAnd I\u2019m ashamed of running away<\/p>\n

From nothing real–
\nI just can\u2019t deal with this,
\nBut I\u2019m still afraid to be there,<\/p>\n

Among your hounds of love,
\nAnd feel your arms surround me.
\nI\u2019ve always been a coward,
\nAnd never know what\u2019s good for me.<\/p>\n

Oh, here I go!
\nDon\u2019t let me go!
\nHold me down!
\nIt\u2019s coming for me through the trees.
\nHelp me, darling,
\nHelp me, please!<\/p>\n

Take my shoes off
\nAnd throw them in the lake,
\nAnd I\u2019ll be
\nTwo steps on the water.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know what\u2019s good for me.
\nI don\u2019t know what\u2019s good for me.
\nI need your love love love love love, yeah!
\nYour love!<\/p>\n

Take your shoes off
\nAnd throw them in the lake!<\/p>\n

Do you know what I really need?
\nDo you know what I really need?
\nI need love love love love love, yeah<\/i><\/div>\n

My Lover’s leaving this week and I’m a little bit scared that my heart won’t be as stable as I need it to be. There’s been so much waiting to even find myself where I am, a place where I feel like I can finally love this man without endeavoring to make myself small. The noun turning into verb, the cards laid levelly on the table. I’m so good at keeping everything contained, what will happen when I don’t have a constant reminder that I need? My job is a welcome distraction, something new, but not anything that can go home with me. That might be what I require. Something to keep me from sitting alone, counting inhalation after exhalation, the number of times I blink in a minute. <\/p>\n

I don’t know what anyone reading this must think this is, what all the waiting has been about. I can only say that it should be worth it, if even only for a year. I’ve been careful without thinking, my respect paramount, and I have no idea if anyone knows the situation who does not directly know me. My regions of thinking aren’t apparently clear in these words that spill from my fingers to warm this moniter lit field. People like it that way, when they’re mentioned, when I’m writing this to them, but sometimes I would dearly like to break. Toss in names and situations that have been eating me away. Explain why I carry this ridiculous sadness, why I pretend not to be secretive about cradling pain within myself.<\/p>\n

Sometimes a melody will draw from me something deep, a line of sunlight that cores in my arteries and forces me to go search for open air. Find some friends and explore where we’ve never been. It’s harder to do here, we have to go so much farther afield to simply find a direction that we haven’t memorized. The exercise, when successful, leaves you lost and discovering, trying to find the nearest village name in the hopes of something to eat that isn’t highway sign fast food. With temerity, we may even leave the country, switch the colour of our money for a monochrome green printed with less interesting faces. When I see a plane fly overhead, I think that the people captive inside that little machine know freedom more than I do. <\/p>\n

Princesses dancing beneath the castle, shoes worn out every night. I was always a little jealous of those seven girls, seven nights. I am invisible, stuck in the middle, a strange drag on the boat. Again, the feel of pale stones against my teeth. I could spit them like teeth, pearly and scraped by a thousand words but instead I leave them in, swallow them clicking down my throat to rest in my belly. They can whisper there, abrading my tensions with a heavy dusk weight, grinding them down into poison that’s easier to digest into fury. Noise isn’t what I’m asking for. I want meaning to flower into splendour here, analyzed into fractal machines and the percentages of smiles versus tears, wet cheeks in rain on a sunny day. <\/p>\n

Blood thudding in my veins. I’m going to feel so empty at the airport, just like last time and the time after that. They’re always the same, escalators and railings. Potted plants that are carefully fake, not even silk and ruined when they get wet. Signs that have been bleached blue by daily wear, left over from the seventies, when all these places were made. The big travel boom, when suddenly the globe was seen as that. When Paris was still romantic and no one here had been to Prague. I always watch until it’s time to walk away, the realization dawning that I never know where to go from there. The day should be different, something incalculable has just changed, but it’s always the same. The day spins, weaving a night and fraying into a new morning, never minding that I am without a set figure of “you”. Past participle sleeping, past and passed and the day is exactly like yesterday. No one notices.<\/p>\n

Distraction is about to become more precious. Black leather pants and he’s not my type at all. He’s thickly built and lacks grace in his language, it’s unnerving. He doesn’t dance with me but it doesn’t seem to matter. He carries my deepest sleep in his washed hands, cupped palms full of sand that keep me mercifully above water. My skin doesn’t care that he doesn’t wait, that he doesn’t speak what it asks for. My energy can’t crackle until that happens, but somewhere there’s a key. It fits into the lock and turns stage left. I’ve seen it happen with closed eyes and an arched back. Lightning caught in a gasped breath and my hands trapped in hair. Artists will tell you that it’s all in the wrists.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

When I was a child: Running in the night, Afraid of what might be Hiding in the dark, Hiding in the street, And of what was following me… Now hounds of love are hunting. I\u2019ve always been a coward, And I don\u2019t know what\u2019s good for me. Here I go. It\u2019s coming for me through … Continue reading “time field happen on”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[272,7,3,9],"class_list":["post-1503","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-lyrics","tag-memories","tag-relationships","tag-writing"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1503","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1503"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1503\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1503"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1503"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1503"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}