Winter Winds

It occurs to me that this blog is nothing more than a record of a love story, the unending tale of a beating heart. That I have spent the last three years here obsessing, relishing, pining, and dreaming of the same one love, for days and nights on end. For good times and bad, when near or far apart. Every morning I think of it, every night when I lie in bed. I mourn the loss of it, as I rejoice in the slight tremble in my heart everytime I think of returns.

This was never my intention. My intention was to write a story of my life.

It simply turned out that the two
were one and the same.

Echo Park

Do a cartwheel right here, right now, he said in the empty lobby of the subway entrance. My hiccups had finally receeded; my last remaining brain cell convinced me that no, it wasn't a good idea after all, and we parted ways on the platform, later. How drunk I was on the train, and with no long walk home to sober me up.

The moon is full over the church tonight. It seems ominous, but I remain too hung over to see its symbolism.

As long as I have a home, you have a home, she said into the closing bar. Come with me in the Spring; come to California and it will all be alright. The promise of New and Shiny on the horizon; I leapt and smiled. The sun always shines, on the west coast. And the rest, will work itself out when it needs to.

Chaperone

(But I needn't fear. In the dark, in the night, I am reminded. There are rules, and trodded paths, there are expectations, this is life. But as long as you are with me, I am exempt. As long as I lie in your arms, in your velvet night, I can be whoever and do whatever; I am invincible. How easy it is to doubt, when the light of day glares at the flaws in my logic, but I mustn't. We mustn't.

Once you have found your purpose,
hold on to it
like your life depended on it.

Because it does.)

Enfin

There has to be
something more
than this.

There
has
to.

( )

Take this silver spoon
from
between
my lips
please.
It is
perpetually
choking me

and I cannot
digest it
to satisfaction.

In the Crowd

There's a glitch somewhere in the windows; cold air rushes in and makes the room unbearable. I took a hot bath and nearly drowned myself lying under the surface for too long but you can't tell now, considering the chill of my fingertips.

The apples I picked in their garden are rotting on the counter. The grapefruit that only cost 6 SEK. The flowers in the window. Everything rots. My body. I make myself a drink but it does me no good; I make myself a life but I don't live up to it so what the hell. You lose some, you lose some.

He writes poetry, I devour it and want always more, always more. When we were young we would tap our teeth to know when we were intoxicated; I tap, tap, tap now and don't know how it's supposed to feel. I think I take these pictures to be able to stare unabashedly at people for hours on end, to look you in the eye and not look away. Perhaps the same goes for everything I do. Don't be scared. My camera won't bite.

I imagine I could steady your trembling hands, but I can't make promises.


...I'll be yours
if you'll be mine. 

But I can't promise that, either.

and I Will Wait

The rustling room came to rest, dark curtains covering afternoon sunlight and hiding the morning's toys and distractions. I laid at the edge of a small mattress, little fingers running across mine, soft eyes looking at me as they contemplated life and the arrival of the Sandman. He wouldn't let me move even an inch from his side, and we lay there quietly, together. Soon, the whole room slept (and no place is as calm as a room full of sleeping children), and there was not a thought left in my head.

Because oh, how the essence of children erase the demons from my side. How their bright eyes and eager curiosity break my egocentric circles and discard my self-conscious chill. We ran through the park laughing, exhausting our every limb and still asking for more, always asking the world for more, our desire for it insatiable.

Sometimes I don't understand this battle I wage. This incessant need to ruin everything that is beautiful and simple about life and make it difficult.

But if you take my war away, as well
I fear there'd be nothing left
of me
at all.

So I fight.