collective pt2

this is just it. those vibrations move parts of us. i am so alone.

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"november is the longest year"

it has been tuesday every day. everyweek is a week of tuesday. there is a low sun with a frame of thick clouds that puts a spotlight on my school as if it were holy. its not though, or maybe it is. it both kills me and saves me. lately it has been killing me more. a drowning frustation pulls at my suspended heart. some one has got the strings but they are not here. i am doing this for him? am i doing this for her? i know its not for me. i should have gone away. someone else is holding my heart but it is not my chest.

it's not a steep hill, but the rock is a good size, it has enough weight to keep itself in movement. but, its not a steep hill, so it's a slow desent that eventually comes to an unenthusiastic stop. i kicked i t off the side of a dry hill this morning

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"so, i went somewhere else."

i called you to go to the david letterman show but marisa responded first so she went with me instead

have been thinkign about starting my own buisness. my mom said i would fail. she is very supportive of my dreams and ambitions.

i can t even remember half these days. they addressed the 60s

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don't leave me in the wheat field. my nails reflected the setting sun when i reached for your arm. you're face was all skin and your hair hung flat against it. i'm going to be late for christmas because of this. i followed behind your cool shadow while we walked back to the side of the road. when i got there i looked east and realised a world that i stole from for years. my dress waved like my nations flag, and i pulled my hair out of my face. twilight set around me and i realised i was standing alone.

look how wide his eyes are. they are so warm. i want to bathe in them.

there was a reflection in your exhausted eyes and i concentrated very emotionally into the deepest valleys of pupils. there were so many pencil lines that vibrated images that could be read through my hands. every dry bone in my body crumbled when you looked away from me. i was not anything when you weren't watching me. i could have died in front of you, but i am patient and i waited. you're touch was distant and shaking with violence. you held the rope and the axe. i could not imagine my body without having your eyes fixed on it. your brown eyes are as warm as the coffee you drink became so cold and bitter in this moment.

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i made two cheese sandwiches. i ate the other one for lunch while i was waiting for you. it was dark outside when you came in and sat in my chair. you closed your eyes. i sat on your lap and closed mine. i reached for my fridge and grabbed my last sandwich, and a few slices of meat and lettuce. i carried everything to the chair and i sat on your lap. i fixed up my sandwich then ate. i chewed it slowly and i leaned my head against your neck

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the temperature dropped 10 degrees since the departure. i keep smelling my stale scarf under my chin and i wish that it was your hair instead. i started to eat chocolate and ignore myself. without you everything melts over and sticks to tables

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i felt it leave my body. air from under my ribs rised up. i watched bubbles float to the surface. the water was very clear and it was just cold enough for my skin to be warm on the inside but refreshing 

on the outside. i just realised something. my friends were sitting on the cement. i was flowing through the most crisp water and i discovered something. then i remembered how the christmas lights used to glow on the basement floor while my parents untangled them to decorate the tree. it was a forest of light and heat and i lost myself many times hunting for a shadow that will make me realize i need the lights. winter is the warmest month.

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the moon was blue and the light made the shadows appear int he darkness

where has this come from? the sound of the creek flowing in the grass beside me.

your room is in the drafty attic. it was barely a room untill you made a nest inside and invited me over. i kept my scarf and hat on while i also wore mittens and boots over my long underwear. i felt brittle and i lifted myself over each wooden stair. the climb was steep and unbalanced. the celing was tall and a strange flourescent glow tints the peeling white paint green. it was dull. i saw my breath in front of me melt the air. it was humid and freezing in that staircase, but it led to your room. 

there was a small door between your room and the stairs that is a very important detail while i am reciting this. i got up there and i have planned the things i want to say. i feel damp against the wall and i cross my arms. you answered the door, i did not knock. you heard me walking up the stairs for like two minutes now. your tv is never on loud, so you heard my steps. the national news is the only thing you watch. it comforts you and reminds you of extended family visiting from the city. 

the ceiling is low in your room and a light butters the white walls. i climb into bed with you and you turn out hte light. now we lie against each other under the covers and the dull blue colours of the tv make me drunk as i try to figure out the images while my attention is on your eyes. you watch with little reaction, i think this is a repeat of the 6 o clock news. there is a man talking about russian media and the information i hear is 100% useless to me. 

i realized that you might be just nervous and are using the tv as a distraction. i'm not sure why this makes any sense, by the way your hand is holding my hip, i think you are more focused on me. the air in your room sits like a sunny fall morning- with a fog that settles in between the evergreens and diffuses the glow of the light. near a highway, its acctually 2 am.