On One Hand

December 17, 2004

Tree Roots

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 2:31 am
Tags: ,

My brain chemistry is fucked up now. I’m in one of those moods where my heart swings out around me like water sloshing in a gold-panner’s tin, out over the edge to dribble like cum stains on those I touch. One drop here and seven there, and I’ll remember you forever. Don’t touch me or you’ll take a piece of me with you. Don’t touch me unless you can take all of me home.

If I can’t be a poet I’ll write stories, and if I can’t do that I’ll write facts. Failing that I’ll bow my head, sighing in humble exasperation knowing I’ll never be widely known, and tuck my neck under his arm as he sleeps. His arm doesn’t care if I’m famous, and his pulse quickens when I sigh near his ear regardless of my mediocrity. Thank God for him, him, his smooth soft body and thin legs, warm lips, wide smile. Now if only I could find him. I’m praying he exists.

Failing that, there’s always walking. Long walks, in the cold, fuzzy rain and soft snow wrapping me up, cold instead of the warm arms, numbing, soothing all the same. Always night, always cool, summer or winter, always quiet. But when the stars shine it’s like a kiss from God, and I stretch my arms to it as I lie on the soft grass, catching a shooting star as it flings it’s drowning body over the tip of Taurus. Flung down, to the Earth, as I fling my own frail body into the sky. Cool breeze picks me up, carries me over the mountians and lets me land safely on the other side, deep in the piney forest. Yes, God will save me.

And failing that, there’s time. Unstopable. Dreams become wounds, wounds become scars, and scars become rancid, decaying flesh. Whenever I bleed I feel sorry that a part of me is going down the sink drain. I want to catch it, hold it for it’s beauty, keep it alive, not to become lost in the miles and tons of putrid shit, urine and scum of the urban sewer. I want to take my bleeding wound outside, let it drain on the damp Earth to become a part of it. It drains on the Earth so that when I die and go there, my blood will be waiting for me. When my body decays and the pieces of nerves and synapses that were once thoughts become soil, I’ll sink in to the dust, flesh first and bones soon after, unaware of the tickling in my ribs and veins of a million tiny meandering tree roots.

Advertisements

3 Comments »

  1. i found you randomly, so i realize this may not be much coming from a stranger. but, even if you don’t become widely known to the massing, i thought you should know that i think you’re writing is amazing.

    Comment by coffeecup_poet — December 17, 2004 @ 1:21 pm | Reply

    • I saw your journal. We have a lot in common. Seriously.

      Comment by ononehand — December 17, 2004 @ 9:14 pm | Reply

  2. You’ll find someone eventually.

    Comment by tempur_tempur — December 21, 2004 @ 5:48 pm | Reply


RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: